Locks and Keys
by meggannn
Summary: Eighteen-year-old Atem has always believed in short-term, no-commitment relationships. Yugi finds himself determined to soften him up. // Follows Sarah Dessen’s “This Lullaby.”
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Just borrowing the characters. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't sue.

Sarah Dessen fans, be prepared to hate me. (And no, I did not copy the title for her Ruby novel; I actually kind of had the phrase 'Locks and Keys' in mind while writing this first chapter, so… yeah. I'm not a _complete_ bitch, am I?)

**A/N:** Because I like writing this way, this story will be in first-person Atem's PoV. I don't know why, but sometimes I just write better like this. Hopefully you readers will give it a chance, and stick through the first chapter to reach the end and let me know what you thought. (:

* * *

**Chapter One**

She watched me with watery blue eyes as I broke the news.

"I… I don't understand," she said finally, her voice choking.

I resisted the urge to sigh. "You understand that I'm not doing this to be mean, don't you?" I confirmed with her, my voice holding no emotion that I could imagine might be standard for a normal breakup. "Things just didn't work out. Even you had to have noticed…"

"But – Atem, really, I don't… was it something _I_…?" Lord, she was going to cry now, wasn't she? Dammit.

"No, it wasn't something you did," I droned, taking a step as I prepared to leave. "I just need some time away from everything. I've got to get ready for college, my family wants some more quality time, I don't want to put a strain on us when we'll both be leaving in the fall… you know. I know you do."

She nodded, swallowing down obvious tears. I was lying through my teeth, of course. True, I was going to college soon and I did need to prepare, but hell if she hadn't had something to do with our ending, the finale to another relationship. Just like all the others.

"Take care of yourself, Mia," I said as a final statement before turning away completely, finally.

I could imagine her crying as I walked away into the pouring rain that fell down upon Domino City. Here I was, my first day out of high school as a grown-up, an adult in the Real World. Welcome to it.

I wasn't always this bad. I can remember when I used to actually care when I broke up with another poor girl that I had hooked up with just as an escape from boredom. I don't really know how I got to be the person I was, to be honest; it was gradual, though, and not as if I had just woken up one morning and found myself a charming, uncaring bastard. I don't know how it happened, and in the end, I don't really know why. And I don't try to spend too much of my time thinking about it.

* * *

When I got home, the first thing I noticed was the music. Loud, classical music that flowed through every corner of the house, while the floor was covered with crumpled sheets of paper that littered the rug. After I closed the door and wandered into the kitchen, the smell of pumpkin bread muffins cooking in the oven reached my nose: the tell-tale sign.

I moved around the island, stepping around my sister's stool where she was ironing something, and peered through the beaded curtain that hung in the doorway that stood next to the refrigerator. I could see my mother's figure hunched over her centuries-old typewriter, clacking away with sounds loud enough to rival the music coming from the radio sitting next to her.

_Thank God_, I mused. _She's writing again._

"How long's she been at it?" I asked Irma as I gathered a few pages from the ground and threw them in the trash can hidden underneath the sink.

My sister shrugged. "Few hours now, I guess."

I pulled up a stool, briefly glancing at the mail before grabbing an apple from the bowl sitting in the center of the island. I chewed on it, watching Irma iron out a blouse that was laid out on the counter.

"Big night tonight?" I asked her, admittedly uninterested but willing to make conversation for the sake of it.

"Mhm," she responded, flattening out one of the sleeves. "Tristan wants me over for a dinner with his parents. It's smart-casual."

I wasn't paying her words any attention. My eyes were locked onto her hands, which were now nudging slowly around the collar of her top. Irma was an extremely slow ironer, almost to the point where I just wanted to jerk the thing away and do it myself. What made it worse was that she didn't do too hot of a job ironing, either. One thing I can't stand more than watchingsomeone do something wrong is watching them do it wrong _slowly_.

"Smart casual?" I mused aloud, eying her steam out the other sleeve.

"It means," she sighed, as if I was just oh-so impossible, "no jeans and t-shirts, but not necessarily a sports jacket. Ties are optional. That sort of thing."

I gave into the urge to roll my eyes. Six months ago, my sister couldn't have been able to define _smart_, much less _casual_. Irma hadn't been in the happiest spot of her life then, back when she made a part-time job out of selling pot to fifteen-year-olds. She'd gotten busted for that, and while she'd gotten away with community service and a big fine (though just by the skin of her teeth), it was somehow enough to shake her out of the trance that had held her for the past few years and get a profession that wouldn't get her arrested. Working at Staples wasn't a Real Job, according to our mother (whose definition of such a term included authoring a dozen or so trashy romance novels). But it worked for her, and, as far as we could see, it had no horrible long-term effects attached. She had also, whoop-dee-doo, met Tristan there when he'd walked in to purchase some paper for his printer.

Tristan Taylor was, according to my mother, "a piece of work," meaning that he wasn't afraid of us and didn't care if we knew it or not. He was a relatively upstanding guy with brown hair and smart grades; and he had, admittedly, done more work with Irma in the past five months than we had managed to in twenty-one years. He had her dressing sharper, speaking more comprehensively, and using wacky terms like "networking" and "multitasking" and "smart-casual."

Irma lifted the shirt off the table and held it up, shaking it slightly as the music from the next room clicked from one song to the next. "There. What do you think?"

"I think you missed a spot." I pointed to a large crease at the bottom.

She wrinkled her nose. "This is so freaking hard. I don't see why people bother."

"I don't see why_ you_ bother," I told her, amused. "Since when do you care about ironing? Last time I checked, you considered wearing pants 'dressing up.'"

Irma snorted. "Cute." She started attacking the edge of her blouse with the iron. "You wouldn't understand, anyway."

"Of course I wouldn't. Forgive me; I keep forgetting that you're the smart one."

"That is _not_ what I meant." Irma stuck her tongue out of the edge of her mouth as she furrowed her eyebrows, concentrating on her task. "What I mean is that you don't know what it's like to do something nice for someone else. You don't know what it's like to do something for someone just because it's _them_. Out of consideration. Out of _love_."

"Oh, Jesus," I sighed.

"Exactly," she declared, holding up the shirt again; the wrinkle was still there, but it's not as if I was about to point it out now. "Compassion and relationships. Two things you are sadly and sorely missing, my dear brother."

"I am the prince of relationships," I said almost indignantly. "And hell, it's not as if you're one to talk about _compassion_."

"Hello, I've just spent the entire afternoon trying to figure out how to work an iron so that I can make this shirt look presentable and do something nice for Tristan and his family," Irma reminded me. "That is so freaking compassionate of me. And you," she said, folding the blouse over one arm, "still have yet to experience any kind of serious commitment–"

"Pardon me?"

"–and you have bitched and moaned so much about ever single nitty little thing that every single nitty little girlfriend has ever asked you to do that I would hardly ever call that compassionate."

I sat there, staring at her. There was no getting through to her lately; it was as if she had been brainwashed by some religious cult. "Who are you?"

"All I'm saying," she said, nearly defensively, "is that I am happy. And I hope that someday, you will be, too."

"I am happy," I said, but I was so pissed about the entire conversation it came out rather snappish. "I am," I repeated in a more level voice.

Irma gave me a clearly patronizing smile as she reached over and patted my shoulder. "I'll see you later," she said, picking up the iron and walking out of the kitchen. I watched her go, carrying her still-wrinkled blouse, and realized that I was clenched and tense; things that I had been, lately, more often than not.

The typewriter _bing!_'d in the other room as my mother started another line. I glared at my half-eaten apple, as if all of my problems were its own fault, and finally threw it away after little consideration.

Walking quietly over to the beaded curtain that separated the kitchen from the sunroom, I peered inside, watching my mother attack the keyboard with her fingers. She really put her whole body into it, too: she was sitting on the edge of seat, her shoulders were hunched, and an unassuming look of concentration was plastered over her face. But hell, at least she was finally over her writer's block.

My mother was the type of novelist that wrote about the tragic love lifes of the rich and famous. Her books were the gasping romantic type, ones that she liked to believe had women reading into the early hours of the morning to find out if Desirae and Lucas would ever overcome the perils of a long-distance relationship, a jealous ex-girlfriend, or a current husband. The characters were all types to have everything and nothing, somehow at the same time. Riches yet poverty of heart. And so on.

I watched her through the beaded curtain. Whenever she wrote she seemed to be in her own little world, oblivious to anything and everything that might normally faze her. Back when Irma and I were little, we would often interrupt her at a critical time in her story, when Melanie and Dominic had only just begun the True Confessions chapter; she had often just put one hand up and told us "Shhhh" before diving back in to her story. As if one word could make us see, make us understand, how much it mattered that we hush up so that she could continue narrating the tragic tale of a woman who pined for a man she thought she'd lost forever.

Back then, the only things my mother had published were newspaper stuff, and money had been fairly tight as we grew up. But she kept at it; she kept writing, trusting that one day her big break would come, and held onto the faith that someday, things would get better. Never mind that we were living off of macaroni and cheese while her characters dined in exquisite restaurants in Paris or Rome, lounging in Dior pantsuits as we shopped in thrift stores. She always loved glamour, my mother, even if she'd never seen it up close.

Irma and I would always interrupt her constantly, which drove her crazy. Finally, she found this beaded curtain at a flea market that she put up to keep us from distracting her when she was in another world with Gemma and Simon at the Plaza Hotel or on some beach in Capri. As soon as the curtain went up in whatever house we were living in at the time, an unspoken rule was declared: when the curtain was pushed aside, the sunroom was fair game. But if it was hanging down, my mother was working, and we had to find our entertainment elsewhere.

I stayed there for a few minutes, watching her. She took no breaks, I noticed, and no stretches to relieve herself of any built-up stress that came with working for hours straight on a novel that was sure to please the hundreds of middle-aged women across the country.

Finally, it all became too much. I didn't know why I left, just that I had to. I didn't want to stay there anymore; in that cramped corner listening to classical music and watching my mother pound out another heart-wrenching novel that might be able to satisfy her editor in New York for the time being. I didn't know why; I just knew that I had to go.

So I walked back through the kitchen, grabbing my keys from the island and picking up my jacket for the rain outside as I moved through the front hall and headed out the door.

* * *

Breaking up with Mia did have a drawback, as it turned out: Duke was now, apparently officially, allowed and required to nag on me until I found someone to fill her space.

"How long did she last?" he asked me, propping his feet up on the table as I leaned back in my chair, washing down my burger with a soda. "Three months? God, man. You're a heartbreaker."

I had no response to this. I picked up another French fry, just for something to do.

"I'll make you bet," he said to me, slapping his hand down on the table. "Your next relationship will not last… a month. If that."

"I'm not going to bet you on anything, Duke," I said wearily, rubbing my temple.

"Wonder why that is," he mused dryly. "Look, if you're desperate or anything, I know someone who'd you be great wi–"

"Hey, Duke?"

We turned to the newcomer, who currently stood at the head of our table, smiling almost uncomfortably down at the two of us. I knew him, I told myself distractedly. Hadn't he been in my government class?

"What's up, Yugi?" Duke asked the new teenager, patting the seat next to him.

Yugi – _Yugi Moto, that was his name,_ I remembered – shook his head politely. "I'm just here for Joey, actually…"

Duke raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What's he want now?"

"Well – a rematch, actually," Yugi confessed, giving him a what-can-you-do smile. "And he was getting a little impatient, so I decided to do him a favor and ask you…"

"Because he can't seem to do it himself?" Duke concluded, chuckling.

"I _heard_ that, dice-boy," a loud call shouted from across the Burger World restaurant. The three of us looked to its origin: a blonde boy sitting in a booth with a brunette girl, two white-haired teenagers, and my sister's boyfriend Tristan. The blonde – Joey, I assumed – was frowning unhappily at Duke. Duke himself chuckled.

"All right," he said, swinging his feet off the table and standing up. "He's lucky I brought my deck." He turned to me before heading off to the blonde duelist. "The bet's still on, pretty-boy."

"You're one to talk," I replied lazily. "How much?"

"Five bucks."

"Boring. And too easy."

"Twenty. And you're paying for my next burger."

I resisted the urge to sigh. "Fine."

Duke grinned and ran off to play Joey in a rematch – of that Duel Monsters card game, I assumed – as Yugi shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, unsure whether he should stay or avoid an uncomfortable situation and rush off to his friends. I watched him for a few moments before motioning toward Duke's now-empty seat. "You can finish his food, if you want. He won't notice."

Yugi took the seat this time, albeit cautiously and politely denied the meal. "So… you and Duke are friends?" the teenager across from me began in an odd attempt to start a conversation.

"Mmm." I took another French fry. "He's not the ideal best friend, but he's enough." I shrugged.

Yugi smiled. "What… what was the bet, that he was talking about? If I'm not prying," he added hastily.

I had to allow his awkwardness a friendly smile. "He doesn't think that I can keep my next relationship for longer than a month."

"Oh…"

A moment passed; it was almost as if I had just built a roadblock in the air between us, preventing any further dialogue to pass. Unintentionally, of course. As much as a part of me denied it, not everything I did was meant to purposefully harm someone. Or that was, at least, what I told myself to get myself through the day.

"You're the Yugi that people kept talking about, right?" I asked finally, to prevent our situation from getting any worse than I had already made it. "Ever since I moved to Domino a few years ago, I've always been hearing about how I look remarkably like somebody named Yugi Moto. You're him, right?"

Yugi blinked, stuttering out a, "Huh? Oh – oh, I… I guess so." He looked up at me. "People really said that?"

I nearly raised an eyebrow. "Mhm."

"Oh." He seemed surprised about something.

"What is it?" I asked him, mildly curious.

"I guess… heh. Well, I guess that I'm not used to people saying…" He rubbed the back of his neck, as if doing so would provide him with words to express what he was trying to say. "… I guess I'm not used to people talking about me… normally."

I had to raise an eyebrow at that. "As compared to what other way?"

"…Name-calling," he admitted finally, smiling in a way that told me he clearly didn't find it funny in the slightest. "Just overall rude… things."

I couldn't find anything to say to this.

"It stopped when I became friends with Téa and Joey and Tristan," Yugi went on. "I mean, Joey and Tristan, they're both kind of tough guys, even if they don't necessarily like violence as much as some of the other guys at Domino High, but… they were enough." He shrugged. "And Téa's honest and brisk attitude definitely helped…"

Yugi suddenly looked at me in alarm as he stumbled to apologize. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "You don't want to hear this, I'm sorry. And it doesn't really matter anymore, really. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," I told him, surprisingly honestly. "Really. Sometimes it helps."

He blinked, and after a moment, sent me another brilliant smile that I had to wonder if I deserved, given that I was just talking to make this guy feel better. I didn't know why I was even doing that, to be honest; all I knew was that it was happening, like so much else – and for some strange reason, unlike when I had to put up with similar conversations with Irma, it wasn't as annoying as it should have been.

"Yug!" the blonde kid, Joey, called from across the restaurant; louder, this time, which caused a few waiters to glare at him disapprovingly. "Lend a pal some help over here?"

"That's called cheating, idiot," Duke retorted, setting down a card from his hand. "There: that takes care of your Panther Warrior. Your move."

Yugi turned back to me. "I'm sorry, but he probably does need–"

"Go," I told him. "You should be there supporting him, at least."

Yugi Moto smiled at me gratefully before rushing off to his friends. I watched them all for a little while longer. Almost as if waiting for one of them to look up and notice me, notice that they still held my attention, if only for the moment – but none of them did. So, after a few minutes, I stood up and grabbed my coat, throwing down some bills for the burgers before walking out the door.

* * *

**A/N:** This story is weird and kind of makes me feel like the most unoriginal person on the planet, but… I don't know. A part of me still wants to continue. We'll see what happens.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Nope. Not yet.

**A/N:** I forgot to mention earlier that there'll most likely be tiny hints of tender (BakuraxRyou) and polarshipping (JoeyxMai) in this story. If you don't like the pairings, it won't hurt my feelings if you ignore the subtle messages.

Also, for those that don't know how high school education grade system works (since I know nothing about Japanese schooling Dx): high schools are four years long, beginning with freshmen (9th graders, roughly 14-15 year-olds), then sophomores (10th, 15-16), then juniors (11th, 16-17), and ending with seniors (12th, 17-18). Then we head off to colleges, or unis, and try to learn something actually useful.

My thanks to those who read and reviewed the first chapter. Here's numero dos. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

The key I kept around my neck, always under a shirt, wasn't used to get into the house, or my car. It wasn't used to open my room or sneak out the back door in the middle of the night. And it didn't open the home of some guy who apparently sold _really_ good marijuana, contrary to Duke's determined beliefs.

It was a little ridiculous that I still had it, actually. I still don't know why I keep it. And I'm not sure exactly what stops me whenever I tell myself to throw it away. I've come close, a few times. But at the end of the day, it's still there, and I suppose that's all that matters.

We moved around a lot, when I was small. Back when my mother was working two full-time jobs at once and our idea of a healthy dinner was a pot of ramen – back when I was actually a kid. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your view), that childlike stage of my life didn't last long: before long, I had come to grow comfortable with the idea of my mother always working and my sister always flaking out on everything. I tried my best to take care of all of us as we bounced from house to house, landlord to landlord. I grew up quickly.

We lived in a bunch of places: mostly smelly, cramped apartment complexes called Pinewood View or Lakeview Ridge with no pines or woods or lakes anywhere in sight. In all honesty, I can't remember each one individually: my memories of them were all sort of mushed together, like a bad photograph.

The only place I distinctly remember living in was this dinky little house in the middle of nowhere, with yellow walls and a bright-blue door. I suppose I was about ten, or so. Maybe even younger. That was when my father was still around.

I'm not sure what happened. I've always known that my parents' marriage was not a stable one – even Irma could see that – but none of us ever thought he'd actually up and leave.

He packed his bags while we were sleeping; he didn't take much, either. Our single luggage bag, a worn briefcase, and a week-old newspaper. None of us heard him go.

"Mom?" I remember Irma yawning out as the two of us walked into the tiny sitting room. "Where's Dad?"

I think it was then that I began to understand that I wasn't like other kids. I didn't get a perfect family with two-point-four kids and a dog. I didn't get to grow up in one place and be able to draw a chart on the kitchen wall and mark up how many inches I'd grown every six months. I didn't get any of that.

My mother seemed to realize that, too. She sighed sadly, pulling Irma into her lap as I sat stiffly on the couch next to her. She seemed to come to grips with the fact that no matter what she said, however carefully she crafted her arguments, it didn't matter if she'd lie to us anymore. There was only one thing that really counted, then and always, and now we knew it.

"I don't know," she had said to the both of us. "He's just gone."

I never did get that pet lizard my father had promised me. He never did teach me how to build a tree-house or play baseball or whatever normal boys did with their sperm donors. And in the end, it wasn't that I wanted to learn any of that – I'd always rather disliked the idea, actually – but it didn't matter, because he'd left. He'd left, and he'd done something to snap our family in half along the way.

We moved from the house that day. Just got up and left; my mother put our month's rent in the mailbox and we all simply drove off to find some other place that we might be able to afford for the time being.

She had told me to put the key to the house inside the mailbox, next to the money. I never did.

I wasn't like other kids. I didn't get to carve Halloween pumpkins every October 31st. I didn't get to share presents around a glowing tree each winter. I didn't get big, family reunions filled with laughing aunts and generous grandparents and some sort of happy feeling, I am told, that comes with it all. I never got to be normal. And to this day, I still have yet to figure out why.

* * *

By the time we got to Marquee, it was nine o'clock and I had a nice buzz on from the Coke and touch of rum that Duke had nicked from his parents' admittedly not-so-secret stash. The two of us pulled up, parked, and eyed the bouncer standing by the door.

"It's Mai," I told Duke, who was searching his pockets for his ID.

"God, where is it?" he said, digging through his jacket. "I just had it."

"Try your–"

"Never mind, got it." He whipped it out just as we reached Mai, who was leaning against the door, propping it open. Marquee was an eighteen-and-older club, but the two of us had been coming since we were sophomores. You had to be twenty-one to drink, however, but that problem was easily fixed by Duke's fake IDs; and being acquaintances with Mai didn't hurt any.

"Atem, Atem," she said as I pulled out my fake and she briefly glanced at it. My name, my face, and my sister's birthday, so that I could quote it quickly if needed. "How's it feel to be a high school graduate?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, raising my eyebrows. "You know I'm a junior at the university."

She snorted and checked Duke's ID. "What's your major?"

"English lit. Minoring in business."

Mai chuckled. "If you say so, hon." She jerked her head inside. "All right, get in there. I get off in half an hour, so I'll probably catch up with you two if you stick around."

"Sure thing," Duke said, following me inside the doors. Marquee was already crowded. The band hadn't come on yet, but the air was full of smoke, thick and mixed with the smell of sweat.

"I'll find a table," Duke called out to me, disappearing into the crowd. I nodded, heading in the opposite direction to reach the bar. I pushed through the crowd, dodging people and once stepping on a foot, prompting a yell.

I finally reached a decent spot near the beer taps and tried to flag down the bartender. He saw me, and as soon as I asked him for two beers, he nodded and moved away to answer somebody else's request.

"–and, well, I'm not sure, Ryou. It was a little out of the ordinary. But then, Irma's not exactly…"

"Ordinary?"

A chuckle. "I suppose so."

Somebody snorted. "Sounds like something out of a shitty romance novel."

The second person spoke up again. "_Bakura_…"

I had turned at my sister's name, not realizing when I'd arrived that it was Tristan that was standing next to me at the bar, along with two of his white-haired friends that I had seen the other day at that burger joint Duke had dragged me to. Tristan noticed me as well, and gave me a polite nod as I did the same. He turned back to his conversation.

"Yeah, so that was really just what happened. Next thing I know I just took a leap and asked her to dinner, and… well, she said yes."

The bartender dropped two plastic cups in front of me, and I took them, sipping out of one.

"So how long have you two been together now?" one of the other guys asked – I think his name was Ryou, or something like that. He had been in my English class, I remember.

"Five months." Tristan moved out of the way as a blonde girl came up to the bar and ordered a few drinks. "But honestly, I'm not sure if it's going too well."

Any time before that you never would have caught me admit that I was eavesdropping, but that line did it. I was curious to hear more.

"Why's that?" Ryou asked. The other white-haired friend scanned his eyes around the room distastefully, clearly bored.

"I'm not sure… well." Tristan seemed almost embarrassed, now, as if he was regretting mentioning his idea in the first place. "I invited her over to dinner last night, just so she could meet the family and all, and, I wasn't sure if they really… connected."

"Irma and your parents?" he was asked, and the brunette nodded.

"Mhm. I'm not sure if it was my fault or not, but she seemed a little down on the drive home, too." The blonde girl walked away with her drinks now, and Tristan moved back into his original position. "I mean, I'm not complaining or nothing, 'cause things are going fine, but it still nags me."

I had to interrupt. "She's not upset with you, Tristan."

He turned around. "Sorry?"

"She's upset with herself," I told him, taking another sip of my drink. "Really. She spent all this morning moaning about how she thinks she totally blew it with your folks last night and how you'll never want to speak to her again. Her words, not mine."

Tristan looked relatively startled. "She did?" He thought for a moment. "Oh, I… huh. Well. I–"

"Atem, man, I could not find _any_where to sit." Duke pushed his way through the crowd, accepting the offered beer I held out to him. He took a large gulp and came up for air. "Seriously, this just isn't a good night. Oh – hey, Tristan." He noticed the other two and nodded at them friendly. Ryou smiled back.

"Hi, Duke," he said. "Nice seeing you."

"Likewise." Duke drowned the rest of his beer and placed the cup back on the counter, then looked at them all with curiosity. "So what're you three up to in a place like this?"

"Waiting for Mai," Ryou responded. "We came here because Joey wanted to ask her out or something, but then he got tied up in a game with Yugi at the arcade so he asked us to come do it for him. We were just talking when we ran into Atem here." He motioned toward me. I had no idea how he knew my name, but I gave him a quick smile anyway.

"It's been half an hour," the other teenager complained loudly. "If she's not done in fifteen minutes, I'm leaving without her, no matter what the dumb blonde wants."

Ryou sighed. "Bakura…"

The guy – Bakura – rolled his eyes, glaring into the crowd once again.

"Don't know if you all've been properly introduced," Duke said to the three of us. "Ryou, Tristan, this is Atem. Atem, these two're–"

"Ryou and Tristan. Thank you, Duke." He rolled his eyes at me, which I chuckled at, then turned to address the two. "Pleasure."

"Nice to officially meet you," Tristan replied, smiling politely.

"'Officially'?" Duke and Ryou simultaneously repeated.

"Tristan's dating my older sister, Irma," I informed the two of them, taking another drink of my beer.

"All right, I'm leaving," Bakura declared, pushing away from the bar. "Come on, Ryou. I don't care if that blonde chic is done with her shift or not: either she's leaving with us now or Wheeler can forget his date. Let's move."

Ryou sighed again and followed him into the crowd. Tristan, looking at the two of us and shrugging apologetically, said, "They're my ride back to the arcade. You're welcome to come with, of course."

As Duke looked toward me, I shrugged. "It's too crowded in here, anyway," I said, putting down my cup, though I had only taken about two sips. "You said you're heading over to the arcade?"

"Yeah," Tristan answered over the band that had just started playing. "It's become a local hotspot for Yugi and Joey, now. Those two are spending every single minute that they can in that freaking place, honestly."

Duke chuckled. "That sounds like Yugi."

We were near the doors now, and it was a bit less crowded and noisy so I asked, "And why's that?"

"'Cause, Yugi's…" Duke paused. "Well, he's Yugi. I'm not sure exactly how to phrase it. He's just…"

"A little obsessed with gaming," Tristan finished, smiling as we reached outside. Ryou and Bakura were talking to Mai, now, who had apparently decided to leave her position early and hand it over to a male bouncer that I thought I might have recognized, if I'd taken the time to care. "He also likes puzzles, that sort of thing. And he's one of the best Duel Monsters players I've ever seen – but then, that's not saying much."

Duke looked over at me. "You two sound like you could get along quite nicely," he commented, for which I took a light and nonthreatening jab at his shoulder.

Tristan looked confused. "What's that mean?"

"It means that Atem's got a thing for Duel Monsters, too," Duke responded. "And video games, too, now that you mention it. He _murdered_ me in that Halo game."

"It was Call of Duty," I reminded him.

"See? He can even tell the difference." The three of us waited as Ryou, Bakura and Mai caught up to us and after we exchanged pleasantries Duke said, "All right, we're going to Bendo's, is it?"

"Yeah, it was Bendo's Arcade," Ryou answered, checking his watch. "Meet you there?"

"Sure thing," he responded, and the two of us headed off to find Duke's car as the others left to find their own. "You know," Duke began as we settled into his light-blue convertible, "I never thought you could be so easy to get along with. Granted, there were no girlfriends there to piss you off, but the majority of conversations I've seen you in usually involve you scowling and glaring as much as Bakura."

I ignored that. "How do you know those three?"

"School," he said simply. "We all had a few classes together, along with Yugi, Joey and that Téa girl. And our teachers were assholes, so at least we had something in common to complain about and piss off."

I had to smile at that.

* * *

"I still say he's a robot," Joey Wheeler commented from behind me, his voice firm and positive. "There's no way a human can get this far and not have some kind of connection with the machine."

"Don't be ridiculous, Joey," the brunette girl, Téa Gardner, scolded. "Of course he's not a robot. Being realistic for once wouldn't kill you, would it?"

"Probably," Mai commented.

"It's entirely realistic," Joey responded indignantly. "I've never seen anyone play this good since… well, _Yugi_."

Yugi himself smiled at the compliment and turned back toward the screen, where I had just cleared another level. "You _are_ really good," he extolled. "Do you play often?"

I glanced over at him, smiling back quickly before turning to the screen again so not to miss any surprises in the game. "Not so much, anymore. I used to come here a lot, but after junior year, I really just didn't have much time."

Yugi nodded in understanding. "I can understand that. Government class killed me this last year."

I chuckled. "At least it's over with. Where're you headed to in the fall?"

I noticed most of the others behind us moved away to go talk or play something else. Yugi looked a bit uncomfortable. "Oh, you mean, like, college?" At my nod, he scuffed his shoes on the floor, staring down at them. "Not… I'm not, this year, actually."

I looked over at him briefly. "This year?"

"Well–" He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the screen now. "Honestly? I've never put much thought into a university. My grandfather owns this shop, see, and I… well, ever since I was little, I've always thought of myself running it, when I grew up. So while everyone else was busy planning to be doctors and firemen and cowboys, all I could focus on was running the game shop."

"It's a game shop?"

"Yeah." We both watched as I cleared another level. "We mostly sell Duel Monsters stuff, though. I'm not sure if…"

"I'd love to check it out," I told him honestly, straightening up as the game gave me a few seconds to catch my breath. "Really. Do you play?"

Yugi looked slightly taken aback. "What, Duel Monsters? Oh – yeah, I play. I didn't know that you did…"

I shrugged, looking back at the screen. "It's not something I've necessarily ever hidden from the general public, but people never really seemed to care, either. And I haven't played in a while, to be honest. School junk, college applications, crap like that."

Yugi nodded and then fell silent as he watched me play. During the next ten minutes, I managed to run through one more level before dying in some weird final battle at a lava pit. As the screen demanded I sacrifice more money to continue playing despite my character's imminent death, I turned away from the machine, leaning back on it and addressing Yugi once more. "So where can I find this game shop of yours?"

I really was interested, to be honest. A year or so ago, Duel Monsters had been a favorite hobby of mine whenever I found another duelist to play with; over time, however, other obligations just seemed to jump in the way, and with my ridiculous schedule it had taken me a while to realize that my deck hadn't been touched in ages. Come to think of it, the other night at Burger World had been one of the first times I'd thought about the card game in months.

"It's – well, do you know where the gas station is, on Columbia Boulevard?" I nodded, and from there, he gave me directions to this little area on the corner of Kingston Road. "It's a real small place with a green roof," he added. "It should be pretty easy to find."

I nodded. "I'll see if I can check it out some time."

Yugi smiled at me again, and a corner of my mouth quirked up in return. Behind me, the game buzzed loudly, informing me that I was now officially deceased and I should enter a three-lettered nickname to make a place on the high scores list. I ignored it.

"Where are you going?" he asked me. "To college, I mean. Where did you get accepted?"

"Stanford," I told him, releasing a breath of air and watching the others shouting while playing some racing game. "Across the Pacific and far away enough to leave Domino behind."

He looked at me. "So you're not planning on coming back after you graduate?"

"Honestly? I'm really not sure yet." I shrugged again. "I'm still making up my mind, really. Still deciding if I want to be a doctor or a fireman or a cowboy."

He laughed.

After another hour or so, Bendo's closed, and the nine of us were promptly kicked outside into the surprisingly chilly summer night. Goodbyes were made, carpools were planned, and Duke, who had driven me to Marquee, denied me a ride home.

"We're like, what, two blocks away from your house?" he reasoned, hopping inside his car and starting the engine. "You can walk it, man. Get a little exercise."

I rolled my eyes and he grinned at me, waving a hand as he drove off. The others went their separate ways, some with cars and some with bus money; but before long they had all left, and I finally decided to do the same.

As I turned down onto the main road, I saw a glint of something shining through the park, over on my right. It was Yugi, on foot, turning into a neighborhood, and in his white shirt he stood out, almost as if he was glowing. He was walking down the middle of the street, the houses completely black on both sides of him, everything quiet in sleep. And for a moment there, watching him head home, it almost seemed as if he was the only person awake or even alive right then, except for me.

* * *

**A/N:** Does anyone else not like this site's new layout? I was perfectly fine with the old one. I _liked_ the little purple 'next chapter' buttons. But now they're all big and white and gross. Viewing how many hits I have is extremely tedious, and I can't see who has me on their favorites and/or alerts lists.

Sigh. Well, this is my first time writing a lot of these characters: Duke, Ryou, Bakura, etc. I mentioned them in, maybe, _one _chapter of my previous story, but I'm still having a little trouble fully settling in to their personalities; so if any of you find anything wrong, please let me know so I can make it all sound realistic. Thanks in advance. (:


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Nope. Not yet.

**A/N:** This chapter is a little bit shorter than the others, but hopefully still good. Enjoy! :3

* * *

**Chapter Three**

I had only gotten a job at a dentist's office because I wanted a car. My mother had offered me her own, a nice Civic, and told me she would buy herself a new one, but it was important to me that I do it all on my own. I loved my mother, but I'd learned long ago not to enter into any more agreements with her than I had to. Her whims were infamous, and I could just see her taking the car back when she decided that she was no longer happy with her new one.

So I'd emptied out my savings account, got out _Consumer Reports_, and did all the research I could on new models before hitting the dealerships. I argued and bluffed and put up with so much salesman bullshit that it almost killed me, but I eventually managed to snag a new Camry with automatic everything, at a price way off the manufacture's suggested rip-off retail. The day I picked it up, I headed over to Chatham Tower Dental Office and filled out an application, having seen a 'Help Wanted' sign on their front window a week or so before. And just like that, I had a car payment and a job, all before my senior year even began.

I picked up the phone as it rang. "Chatham Tower Dental Office," I said. "Atem speaking."

"Atem, hello, this is Lola Michaels," the woman on the other end said in a rushed voice. "Please, you _must _to reschedule me in for my daughter's check-up today instead of tomorrow morning. Dominic's got some big client and my oldest son is restriping the coffee table and I've got to be at Gemma's wedding rehearsal–"

"One second, please," I said in a clipped voice, and hit the hold button. Above me, a lady pulled out her wallet and slid a gold credit card across to me as her son began to whine out of boredom. "That'll be sixty-five, ma'am. Is your next appointment still set for December twelfth?"

She nodded, and I swiped the card, handing it back to her. She signed the slip and left, dragging the boy behind her and through the doors.

I hit the button for line one. "I could fit you in at three-thirty, Mrs. Michaels, but you have to be here on the dot, because Dr. Baker has a firm four-fifteen."

"Three-thirty?" Mrs. Michaels repeated. "Well, you see, dear, earlier would be better, actually, because I–"

"It's three-thirty, ma'am," I told her, trying not to sound as annoyed as I felt. "That's all that is available today."

There was a pause, some anxious breathing, and then she said, "I'll be there."

"All right. We'll see you then."

As I hung up the phone, penciling her in, Dr. Baker passed by me and chuckled. "Kid, you are such a hard-ass."

I shrugged. The truth was, I could deal with those kinds of people because most of them had that used-to-having-everything, me-me-me mentality, which I was well used to, having lived with my mother for eighteen years. They wanted to bend the rules, get things for free, run into other peoples' paths and have everyone still love them. So I was good at this job, if only because I had a lifetime of previous experience.

In the next hour and a half, I got two families waiting for their doctors to check on their kids' braces, ordered lunch for Dr. Baker, and did the receipts from the day before. By two o'clock, things had slowed down a bit, and I was just sitting there at the desk, drinking a Diet Coke and staring out into the parking lot.

Chatham Tower neighbored a strip mall. Immediately to our right, there was a market that sold some kind of expensive organic food. There was also a nail salon, a coffee place, a bank, and a one-hour photo.

As I was staring out, a familiar light-blue convertible pulled up, and I immediately recognized Duke's black hair and headband in the driver's seat. Somebody with a dirty-blonde head got out of the car, conversed with Duke for a second, and then the car drove off. The blonde turned around and I recognized him as Joey Wheeler, the guy from Burger World and the arcade. He came toward us, tucking in his shirt as he got closer.

I raised an eyebrow. Though we had a very nice sign in the window that read "Please – No Soliciting," I always had to chase away people selling candy bars or Bibles. Still, I had to give him a chance, at least. He seemed like a decent guy.

The door chimed, and he came in.

"Hello," he said, walking right up, and noticed me immediately. "Hey – Atem, I didn't know you worked here, man."

I gave him a smile. "Yeah. Only part-time, though, and I'm leaving in the fall."

"That's awesome," he said. I noticed, suddenly, that he was wearing a dress shirt that looked suspiciously thrift store-esque. And the tie definitely might have been a clip-on.

"I was wondering if you were hiring," he said awkwardly, glancing around.

I looked at him. "Not anymore. Sorry," I told him honestly.

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Damn," he muttered.

"Forgive me if I'm prying," I started, "but why do you want a job here, of all places?"

"Well – look, it's not as if dental stuff's been a life-long goal or anything," he assured me, leaning against the counter. "It's just – Mai, she's an upstanding girl, y'know? And she's a bouncer over at Marquee, she has been for five years or something – and I'm like, eighteen, and I don't have a job, so it'll… I don't know. Chicks love dudes with jobs. Proves they're responsible, or something. I heard that from Duke," he finished lamely, giving me an awkward shrug.

I was caught between sighing and laughing. I had to wonder if Duke had planned this all out.

"Atem, hon? Did we ever get our shipment from…?" Desirae, the office manager of Chatham, called out as she walked into the waiting area.

"Not yet," I answered.

Desirae was a tall woman who had a huge laugh to match her huge frame, and she inspired enough respect and fear in her clients to share with entire office. Now, she looked over at Joey.

"Why are you here?" she asked him.

He looked up, a tiny bit startled. "I'm applying for a job," he told her politely.

She looked him up and down. "Is that a clip-on tie?"

"Yes, ma'am," Joey said, nodding at her. "It sure is."

Desirae looked at me, then back at him, and burst into laughter. "Oh, Lord, look at this boy. And you want to work for me?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do." He was so polite I could see him gaining points, quickly. Desirae was big on respect.

"Know how to clean teeth, son?"

He considered this. "No. But I'm a fast learner."

"Do you have any dental experience?"

"Can't say that I do."

"Know what Patterson is?"

"No, ma'am."

She cocked her head to the side, smiling. "Honey," she said gently, "you're useless."

"My father always says that," he said, nodding. "I thought I could get a job answering the phone or something, but I didn't know Atem worked here…"

Desirae chuckled. "Look," she said, "unless you've got any college, we've got nothing for you here. But you come down to the camera place and I'll get you a job. That girl owes me a favor."

"Really?"

She nodded. "But come on, son. I don't have all day." She headed toward the door.

Joey looked back at me. "Thanks anyway."

I nodded at him.

"You know," he said, leaning in a little closer, "he's still talking about you."

"Who is?"

"Yugi."

I blinked. "Why?" I asked. "He doesn't even know me."

Joey shrugged. "I think it has something to do with his game store," he told me. "He's all excited about something, going on included the shop, Duel Monsters, and you. _I_ dunno what it is, but I figured you might find that all interesting." He started walking toward the door. "Later, man."

"'Bye." I stared after him, watching as he and Desirae headed over to the hour-camera store.

I furrowed my brow, reaching up and running my finger down the thin silver chain around my neck until I hit the familiar shape at its center. Lately I'd been doing that more often, tracing the outline I knew by heart: the rounded top, the smooth edge on one side, the series of jagged bumps on the other. For so long, it'd been one of the only things that stayed a constant in my life. It had been with me for years, acting neither as reassurance or comfort, but as a platform of stability when things got even a little out of control.

You couldn't see the key around my neck; it hung too low under my collar. But if someone leaned in close, they could definitely make it out, buried deep beneath my shirt. Out of sight and hard to recognize, but still able to be found, even if I was the only one to ever look for it.

* * *

When I finally got off, I walked outside to the parking lot. It finally felt like summer. Heavy heat, totally humid, and everything smelled kind of smoky and thick. The temperature in Chatham's was always ice cold, so walking outside was like leaving an artic freeze. More often than not I got goose bumps walking to my car.

I got in, cranked the engine, and turned on the AC to full blast. Then I picked up my cell phone and checked the messages. One was from Duke, asking what we were doing tonight. Another was from my mother, asking me if I'd please, _please_ pick up a few groceries on the way home. The last one was from Irma, reminding me that Tristan was cooking us dinner tonight, six sharp, don't be late.

I deleted the last message with an angry jab of my finger. I was never late, and she knew it. Further evidence of near-brainwashing by Tristan Taylor (though I couldn't blame him, since I knew he wasn't doing it on purpose). Honestly, _I_ was the one who got her up each morning when she started that job at Staples; otherwise, she would have slept through all three of her alarms, which she set in various positions around the room that required her to get out of bed to hit the snooze button. _I_ made sure she wasn't late, didn't get fired, was out the door by 8:30 at the latest in case she hit traffic down the main street, which she always –

"Atem?"

There was a figure on my left, just next to my door. I rolled down the window and recognized Yugi as he leaned down, smiling at me.

"Hey," I responded. "What's up?"

"I… kind of need a ride," he confessed sheepishly. "Joey caught the bus back to my house a while ago so we could look at some new Duel Monsters packs, but I just missed the last one and the next doesn't come for a while. Could you…?"

Part of me wanted to be selfish, put the damn car in reverse and drive off. But that was the half that the other despised; it was the half that had prevented me from keeping so many girlfriends over the years that I was sick of all the times I'd had to go to Marquee to find new nominees.

"Please?" He held up a grease-stained bag from Burger World. "I'll share my fries with you."

"I have a no-food policy in my car," I told him honestly. But something didn't feel right, so after sighing internally and deciding not to be the bad guy just this once, I said, "But all right. Get in."

He smiled gratefully as I unlocked the passenger door. He started around the front of the car and slid in beside me, settling into the seat as the door swung shut behind him. "I really appreciate this," he told me, relieved. "Really. Thank you."

"Sure thing." I pulled us out of the strip mall and onto the road.

"Why do you have a no-food rule?" he asked conversationally after a few minutes.

I glanced over at him. "I'm trying to keep it nice."

He looked around, glancing at the backseat, then at the dashboard and floor mats. "Nice?" he repeated. "This place is like a museum. It still smells new."

I couldn't bite down a smile at that.

"It's on the left here," he instructed, pointing as I changed lanes. "So are you one of those big control freaks, where everything has to be exactly in its place or else all forms of catastrophe breaks loose?"

"Not quite."

"You are, I can tell." He ran a finger across the dashboard, and then inspected it. "No dust," he reported. "And you've cleaned this windshield from the inside, haven't you?"

"I… not lately, no."

Yugi smiled. "It's another left here."

I hooked us onto the next street and immediately saw a neat little building with the words 'Game' on a green roof. I could see Joey Wheeler, camera store employee, sitting on the front steps as he examined his deck. I drove us up and parked next to him.

Yugi opened the door and got out, taking his bag o' grease with him. He closed the door and turned around, looking at me through the window. "Thanks for the ride," he said. "Really."

"Anytime," I said. He didn't move for a second, which threw me off: just us, there together, eye to eye – until he blinked and pulled away awkwardly, heading toward the front porch and his blonde friend, who noticed me and waved. I waved back, noticing mildly that my car now smelled of grease. I rolled down the windows.

"Hey, Yug," Joey said, putting his deck away as I shifted the car to reverse. "You have a key in, right?"

I heard a pause. "Joey, didn't Grandpa let you in?"

"Nope. I don't think he's here, actually. The 'Closed' sign is in the window of the shop. You don't have a key?"

"I was counting on Grandpa to be here…"

"What about the back door?"

I saw Yugi shake his head in my rearview mirror. "It's locked."

Joey stuck his hands in his pockets, puffing out a heavy breath of air. "Well, I guess we'll just have to break a window."

"I – wait, what?"

"Don't worry," Joey reassured. "We'll pick a small one. Then you can wriggle through it, okay?"

"Joey, we can't break a window," Yugi argued as Joey started up the stairs, moving to check out the window on the front side of the house. "Grandpa'll kill me–"

"Don't worry, I'll pay for it. I have a job now, you know," the blonde commented with a wink.

By now I wasn't even waiting for a gap in traffic anymore. I was more interested in watching Joey find a rock around the side of the house and test its weight in his hand before squatting down in front of a small window next to the porch. He studied it, readying his technique as Yugi continued to protest desperately.

I couldn't watch this. Call it the control-freak issues that Yugi had been determined to believe in, but soon enough I was out of the car and heading up toward the two of them.

"One," Joey was saying, "two…"

"Hold up," I called, and he stopped, looking back at me. Yugi looked relieved, though I wasn't sure if it was because I was still here or because I had just stopped his best friend from smashing his basement window.

"Do you have a credit card?" I asked them.

Yugi and Joey exchanged looks. "Perhaps," Joey said finally. "What, exactly, do you need purchased?"

"It's to unlock the door," I told him, reaching inside my pocket, but my wallet was in the dashboard compartment back in my car.

"I have one," Yugi offered. "Grandpa gave it to me for emergencies, so I guess this counts…" He handed over a Visa. I thanked him and walked up the steps, sliding the card between the lock and doorjamb, wiggling it around. I could feel the two of them watching me.

I never used my knowledge of this technique to break and enter: always just to get into my own house, or Duke's, when keys were lost. My sister, who had used this for evil purposes at times, taught me this when I was fourteen. This skill was acquired over time, after playing around and understanding that every card and every door is different, and the weight of the lock and the thickness of the card are all factors.

A few pulls to the right, then the left, and I felt the lock give. "You're in," I said, handing Yugi back his card.

"Really?" he asked, clearly very impressed and thankful. "Thanks!"

Joey eyed the door, then me. "How'd you do that?"

"Practice," I replied, giving him a smile, which he returned genuinely after a few seconds.

"Do you want to come in?" Yugi asked me. "I think Grandpa's gone to run some errands, so I'm going to reopen up the shop; and Joey and I were going to look at some new packs, so you're welcome to stay, or have a duel…"

I blinked, and checked my watch. Four-thirty. I had time.

I considered my options. There was that dumb dinner with Irma. I still needed to stop by the store and pick up some groceries for my mother. Not to mention my mother herself, who can occasionally be fairly unpredictable when left alone for too long. And Duke probably wanted to go to Marquee tonight, too…

"Sure," I said to Yugi finally. "What kind of new packs do you have?"

Yugi smiled at me before leading the way inside.

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, Atem works at a dental office. I just couldn't find a better place, okay? I personally can't see him bagging groceries at a supermarket, or something, so… receptionist it is.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Nope. Not yet.

**A/N:** You guys are too fantastic. I know that I don't say "thank you" to my reviewers as much as I should, but let me tell you now that I really do appreciate each and every person that takes their time to give me nice and/or constructive feedback. (: Enjoy chapter four.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

"Atem, dear?" I heard my mother call out from her bedroom. "Could you help me for a moment?"

I left the hallway and walked over to where she was sitting, taking the necklace she was holding out and clasped it around her neck. "You look beautiful," I told her. And the part that really got me was that it was only partially true. She was wearing a long red dress with a drop neckline and amethyst earrings. She smelled like peppermint, which, when I was little, I believed to be the most wonderful scent in the world. The whole house reeked of it, clinging to the carpets and curtains the way cigarette smoke does: stubbornly and forever.

Yes, she was gorgeous and stunning and shining with feminine beauty. And yes, I suppose she was beautiful, in a way. If you liked that sort of thing.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she said. Looking at us reflected in the mirror I was struck by how little we resembled each other. My mother had always been small and wiry, full of drama and energy and prone to outbursts: she liked to wear lots of bangles and bracelets that clacked wherever she went as she waved her arms around. Her hair had always been jet black, though it was now graying, and she wore it in a short blunt cut with thick bangs cut straight across. With her long flowing skirts and the hair she almost could have been a geisha, except she was way too noisy.

I, on the other hand, was dark and thin, contrasting her light and voluptuous appearance. I mainly kept things straight and simple, preferring black shirts and pants to her bright and vibrant clothing. I am told that I look nothing like my father: except for the hair, because he apparently had these messy reddish blonde locks that were to _die_ for.

"I'm going to a friend's dinner party," she explained briefly as she fixed an earring. "I'll probably back around ten or so. And Irma's at Tristan's, so you have the house to yourself, okay?"

"Right," I said.

"Oh, honey," she went on, "you know how I proud I am of you, don't you?"

I looked down at her. I was standing behind her chair, one hand resting on her shoulder, and she reached up to clasp it with her own.

"I know you're leaving in a few months," she said, "and I know that after a while you'll most likely forget about me and Irma and all of your friends" – I had to prevent myself from flinching when she mentioned the last category – "but I'm so glad that we moved here. We all seem to be truly happy since we moved to Domino. You've done so well in school, and you've met so many nice girls…"

She sighed. "For a long time I thought this was permanent, living here. You, me, and Irma, just us together. I had my job, I wrote my novels, and you two had your own lives, but that would be it. And now…" Her eyes connected with mine in the mirror. "I know you really want to go to Stanford, honey, and I'm proud of you. And even though I really thought that this would be our perfect living-style, forever, I won't ever force you to stay rooted to us when you don't want to."

I knew what she wanted me to say, but I still hesitated. Yes, it was great that she thought we could all live happily in this nice, charming house in Domino while the rest of the world went on; but I knew that things never worked out that way. You had to look at the long-term effects, plan out everything that might possibly happen and make well thought-out choices when they came along. All of the girls and relationships I had been through had taught me that no matter what your situation is, there's always going to be the unknown factor that, sometimes, can determine the world.

Maybe my mother could change her mind on a whim, decide things when she wanted them to happen and never look at things in the grand scale. Maybe she could forget what happened with my father. But I couldn't.

"Thank you," I told her.

"I just feel like things are going to take a chance for the better around here, very soon," she said. "Don't you?"

I didn't answer her for a long minute, but finally, I said, "Sure, Mom." I took a breath. "Of course."

* * *

Duke wasn't answering his cell phone, so after a very brief dinner I ended up driving around Domino, looking for something to do. It wasn't until I passed by the mall that I recognized Yugi. He was leaving the building, making a turn to walk down the street.

I drove up next to him. "Need a ride?"

He turned around, initially startled, but calmed when he noticed me. "Huh? Oh – no, I'm okay. Thanks, though."

I looked at him. "This is a major road. There's not even a sidewalk up ahead."

He looked at me, amused. "Are you a safety monitor, or something?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You'd prefer to walk six miles home?"

"It's not six miles," he argued.

"You're right. It's six point two," I replied as an angry red Ford beeped behind me before zooming past. "Come on, Yugi. I'm trying to be chivalrous."

He laughed. "There's one word for it. Chivalry's dead, Atem."

"And you will be, too, if you keep walking along here." I unlocked the passenger door. "Get in."

Yugi chuckled and walked around the car, climbing into the seat.

"Why are you so determined to give me a ride?" he asked me curiously.

I glanced over at him. "You really wanted to walk it?"

"I've done it before."

"How many times before?"

"Unless somebody can drive me, every time," he replied. "You know where my house is, right?"

"Do I make a right here?" I asked, and he nodded.

"I had a lot of fun yesterday," Yugi commented. "I don't think I've ever met someone who's so skilled at Duel Monsters. Not to say that Joey and Duke aren't good, but you really… I've never seen someone who puts that much effort and thought into every single move and strategy."

I looked over at him and smiled. "I'm surprised I still remembered how to play. It's been a few years."

"I never would have guessed," he replied honestly. "You were really… something."

I looked over at him for a minute, and in that same second he looked right at me. The light ahead turned green; I pressed on the gas, quickly looking away and keeping my eyes ahead, vaguely noticing that Yugi had done the same, and was now staring out the window. My eyes once again drifted from his face to the rear-view mirror in the front.

"Aw, shit," I realized.

He looked at me, concerned. "What is it?"

I glanced over at him, wincing an apologetic glance. "Irma's purse is in the back seat. She probably took my car and used it while hers was in the shop… probably left it here, forgetful little twit."

"Do you need to stop by at your house?"

"I should get you home first. Beside, it's no big problem; she's over at Tristan's anyway…"

"Oh, it's no problem," Yugi assured me, smiling. "Actually, I'm in no big rush to get back home. Nothing's really happening back at the shop, so…"

I smiled slightly in understanding, taking a right and pulling up into my driveway. "Here, I'll only be a minute," I said, getting out of the car and grabbing the purse but pausing before shutting the door. "You're welcome to come in, of course."

Yugi's face lit up.

* * *

I tossed Irma's bag on her bed lazily as Yugi curiously asked, "What's in there?" I turned: he was peeking into a small walk-in closet inside. The light was on inside it, spilling out underneath the doorway.

"Oh. Here." I walked over and opened the door, letting him step inside. He wandered in curiously.

"My sister breeds lizards," I explained. "This is where she keeps the aquariums."

They were monitor lizards, and hard to describe: smaller than iguanas, bigger than geckos. They had snakelike tongues and ate tiny crickets that were forever getting loose in the house, bouncing down the stairs and chirping from where they hid in shoe closets. She even had an incubator, which she kept on the floor of her room. When she had eggs in it, it ran in cycles all day, softly clicking to maintain the temperature needed to bring the babies to maturity.

"Really?" Yugi asked, intrigued, and he bent down to examine one. He pressed a finger against the side of one of the glasses. "That's a little… different. It's neat, though."

I snorted. "Irma's just weird."

Yugi smiled.

"What are you doing in here?" a voice called from the doorway. "Oh – hey, Yugi."

Irma nodded at Yugi quickly before turning to glare at me; an expression that I matched evenly.

"Returning your purse," I told her. "You're welcome."

"How'd you get your hands on it?"

"You forgot it in my car, surprisingly. Any more questions?"

She stuck her tongue out at me before walking over to the bed and snatching it up. "This is all I came back here for," she informed us, digging through it. "I left my digital camera in here, and I'd taken the _stupidest_ pictures of him on it that I really wanted to show his sister – "

I raised my hands. "I don't care."

Irma rolled her eyes, then turned to Yugi. "Oh, you're looking at the lizards? Have they hatched yet?"

He blinked, looking back at the aquariums. "You have eggs in here?"

"Yeah, see, look inside here …" She moved over inside the closet, squatting down, and Yugi paid her rapt attention.

I watched the two of them from across the room, taking a seat on Irma's bed. It was weird, this situation. Two weeks ago I wouldn't have been able to point Yugi Moto out in a crowd if you'd paid me – but here he was, invited into my house, and currently giggling with my sister over some dumb little amphibians that would probably die in a few months, anyway.

He was an odd one. He played a kids' card game, he lived in a game shop, and he had the weirdest appearance of anyone else in our class – aside, perhaps, from me, though I didn't particularly give a damn over what anyone else cared – and he just didn't seem too _normal_.

He was almost like me, in a way. Except for the house, the height, and all of the friends. And the personality.

… And a fair amount of other stuff.

I frowned. Exact opposites, in a way. He was outgoing, but shy; I was quieter, and yet somehow braver. He trusted far too much; myself, far too little. The factors were clear, now that I thought about them, and now that I'd realized, I doubted sincerely that I'd be able to stop noticing.

A part of me was wondering how the hell the two of us had ever become friends – we were so _different_, for Chrissake – while the other half didn't seem to care.

_He's here_, I thought to myself. _You've always wanted someone to talk to – the day Duke will count is the day I'll lick his foot – and he's here. A little later than I'd expected, but that doesn't matter…_

Yes, Yugi was a friend, as hesitant I was to admit it for reasons I had yet to understand. We were opposites, and yet, we had so much in common – Duel Monsters, for instance. Among other things. The only things that really mattered.

"I'd better be getting back," Yugi said, standing up. "Thanks for showing me the lizards, Irma. Hope they hatch soon."

"I'll let you know as soon as they do," she promised, smiling, and then turned back to the incubator.

"I'll drive you." I got up, showing Yugi the way back downstairs and out into the driveway. Outside, the sun was low over the horizon, spilling crimson and violet streaks across the sky.

"Are you all right?" Yugi asked me as we drove out onto the main highway.

I kept my eyes straight ahead. "I'm fine. Left?" I asked and he nodded. I turned the steering wheel onto the next street. "Do you know _everybody_?"

He looked over at me, surprised and confused. "Huh?"

"How do you know my sister?" I clarified. "She's, like, three years older than us."

"She hangs out with Tristan sometimes." Yugi shrugged. "We see her every now and then. And no, I don't know everybody. I just bond easily." At my quizzical gaze, he went on, "I guess it's because I've spent so much of my life alone. I've never been sure if was my fault or not, but I guess I grew… mellow. People seemed to like that, for some reason."

Not for the first time, I glanced over at him, and realized how much older he seemed than I had originally noticed. He was not innocent. He had been exposed to the cruel, cold world, and he knew exactly how it worked. Just like me.

But he didn't seem to mind it all that much.

* * *

When I got back home after dropping Yugi off, Irma was still at the house.

"Atem," she hissed at me as I passed by her room to get to my own. "Come here, you've_ got_ to see this."

I wandered into her room, following the sound of her voice. She was still bent over the incubator in her closet. "I thought you'd have gone back to Tristan's by now."

"I will in a few minutes," she told me. "Come _here_."

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and sighed as she grabbed my hand and yanked me down. The top of the incubator was off and inside there was a small Tupperware container, filled with what looked like moss. On top of it were three little eggs. One was broken open, one kind of mushed, and the other had a little hole in the top.

"Check it out," Irma whispered, and pointed at the one with the hole.

"Irma." I looked at my watch. "I haven't even taken a shower yet."

"Just wait," she said, poking at the egg again. "This is worth it."

We crouched there, together, and my head started to hurt from the heat. But then, just as I was about to get up, the egg stirred. It wobbled a bit, and then something poked out of the hole. A tiny little head, and as the egg tore, it was followed by a slippery and slimy body, so small it could have fit on the tip of my finger.

"_Varanus tristis orientalis_," she recited. "Freckled monitor. He's the only one that survived."

The lizard seemed a bit dazed, blinking its eyes and moving in a shuttered, jerky kind of way. Irma was beaming, as if she'd single-handedly just created the universe.

"Pretty cool, huh?" she said as the lizard moved on its webbed feet. "We're the first thing he's ever seen."

The lizard stared up at us, and we stared back, taking each other in. This was a screwed-up place he'd just come into, I thought. But he didn't have to know that. Not yet, anyway. There in that room, where it was hot and cramped, the world probably still seemed small enough to manage.

* * *

**A/N:** More bonding. Yay. This chapter took a lot longer to write than it should have, so I'm sorry for that. The second part never really sat well with me, so I had to revise it a few times, and even still, I'm not too happy with it. Thus the reason why this chapter is waaayyy too short. –sigh– Oh well. Let me know what you think, please.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue me. I'm a good girl, I am. Washed m' face and 'ands b'fore I wrote this, I did.

**A/N: **Glad people like it so far. Here's the next one. (Chapters like this one are the reasons this story's rated T. There's no steamy almost-sex or attempted rape or anything, but there is… eh. I'll let you see for yourself.) Enjoy.

**Quick note to Kaoru/Hime no Ichigo **_(since I'm too lazy to reply to your review the easy way)_ ;; Ooh! Thank you very much; it looks like I forgot to catch that when doing my revisions. I've edited it now, but still: big cookies to you, and my thanks for pointing it out. :D

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"So I've found you some new prospects," Duke blabbed on. "They're not perfect for you – but, I mean, that's the beauty of it. Our bet's still on, so I'm officially determined to set you up with one of them just to see if you can go a month without strangling her neck."

I nodded absently, flipping through a few Duel Monsters cards. Was that Kuriboh? Jesus, I thought I'd lost him ages ago…

"No, man, I'm serious." Duke lit a cigarette, despite his determined statements that he had quit months ago. "You know that Téa chic? The one you met back at the arcade, with the short brown hair? Seriously, she's perfect. You're both arrogant, occasionally extremely bitchy, and you both've got your heads stuck so far up your own butt that you can't even–"

"Get that damn cigarette out of here, Duke," I instructed him, ignoring the rest of his comments. Oh, _there_ was Monster Reborn. Where had that been when I dueled Yugi? "It's stinking up my room."

Duke rolled his eyes at me before reluctantly extinguishing the stub at the sink inside the bathroom just next to my room. "Look, are you even listening to me? Because seriously, if you want your twenty bucks and burger, I'll go double or nothing if you last longer than a month with Téa. I'm telling you, she's–"

"I don't care what she is. I'm not dating anyone you suggest."

He moved back into the room and grinned at me. "Why? Worried you'll lose the bet?"

"No. Because it's you who's suggesting them."

Duke sighed, exasperated and dramatic. "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't you understand that the joy that comes with setting you up with someone makes up for all of the holiday gifts you've never given me? And now you're spoiling my Christmas."

I stared at him. "It's June."

"Whatever. Learn to take a joke."

I ignored him, refocusing my attention back to the cards.

Duke sighed again; it was loud and attention-grabbing. "What _is_ it with you and card games?"

"What?"

"I don't see what the big deal is," he commented. "I mean, yeah, Duel Monsters is a fun game, and dueling Joey is amusing enough just to watch him get frustrated when you win, but honestly, it's not all that important."

I shrugged, and he gave up with the interrogation.

"Fine, whatever. Suit yourself." He reached over, turning on the radio to some loud song in which the singer screamed about precisely how messed up he was. "But it's not fair if you purposefully keep yourself from hooking up. It's cheating and it's lame. I want to see you with someone by next week, got it?"

I unconsciously reached up to fiddle with the key around my neck. "Right," I agreed distractedly. "Of course."

* * *

"That's it," my mother declared, sweeping boldly and dramatically into the kitchen, where Irma and I were seated at the island. "I'm finished."

I ignored her, but my sister looked up. "You're done with your new book?"

"No," she clipped. "I'm finished. Done. It's over." At our lack of a response, she went on, "I'm _quitting_."

I still did not look up, but I did say, "You're sure?"

"Positive," she stated firmly, walking over to the refrigerator for a beverage. "I am giving up with writing for good. I'm going to call my agent and make it official this afternoon."

"Right," I said distractedly, most of my attention still focused on the newspaper I was reading.

Irma rolled her eyes a me. "Come on, Mom, you were almost done," she persuaded our mother, who was pouring herself a glass of lemonade. "You can't give up now."

"Irma, dear…" Mom took her glass and moved over to the island, taking a seat between me and my sister. "This has been coming for a long time, to be honest. The truth is, I really just don't think writing is my _passion _anymore."

As Irma made to protest, I interrupted her. "It's fine, Irma," I said, still not lifting my gaze from the article I had been reading; something about the world's fattest priest losing weight, or whatever. "If she's done, then she's done. She's made up her mind." My sister glared at me, and I shrugged.

This sort of thing happened at least once during every novel. Our mother would burst into a room, announce her retirement from authoring, stalk around the house for a few hours, and be back at her typewriter by six p.m. This time would be no different. I'd honestly have been more surprised if it didn't happen.

"Thank you, Atem," Mom sighed, patting my hand. "I'm glad that you understand."

"Sure thing."

"I just feel so _worthless_," she went on, moaning, though I was pretty sure I hadn't offered her any hints that I'd like her to continue speaking. "I've truly dug myself into a hole with this one. Poor Olivia is stuck in New York City with Nathaniel, and meanwhile Richardson is trapped in London with his fiancée – and none of it's working out the way I wanted it to."

"Have you found any of your Post-It notes?" Irma asked curiously.

"Not lately," she moaned. "I don't want to look, either, as I'm scared that I've used them all up."

Reaching for an orange from the ceramic dish in the center of the counter, I blinked as I noticed a sticky yellow sheet of square paper stuck to the bottom of the bowl. "Found one," I noted idly, starting to peel the skin off the orange.

"Oh!" My mother grabbed at the Post-It, reading the writing she'd scrawled on it months ago. "Oh… oh, this is… this is good," she said happily, getting up from her stool and moving back to her typewriter in the other room. "This just might work." Within fifteen seconds the beaded curtain was hanging down once again and the sound of her typewriter echoed loudly through the kitchen.

Whenever my mother was struck by inspiration, she stuck Post-It notes around the house. It could be anything: an interesting line, a random thought, whatever – but when she thought of it, she immediately grabbed a Post-It note and a pen and wrote it down before she forgot. She would stick the note on a wall, underneath a counter, on the stairway railing, or wherever else she was at the time. And whenever she hit a writer's block, she could just go searching for a Post-It to re-inspire herself. Once, I'd found a note in my bathroom, hidden next to the toilet paper. It had been about penguins, and ended up being a major plot point in one of her bestsellers. I was still scratching my head over that one.

"You could at least try to be supportive," Irma told me disapprovingly, and I shrugged.

"If she wants to give up, let her give up." I took a bite out of my orange.

"She needs _encouragement_."

"She'll come back to her typewriter eventually. We both know that."

"Yeah, because we're always there to help her back to it," Irma said, throwing up her hands. "Honestly, it's like you don't even _care_."

"I don't."

"You're such a bastard, Atem," Irma told me, getting up angrily and grabbing her purse but not moving any further toward the door. "Unfortunately, we're also blood, so I can't bring myself to kill you."

"Thank God."

"Must you be so sarcastic?"

"Don't you have to leave for work soon?" I retorted, growing a bit annoyed by this point but refusing to show it. "Wouldn't want you to miss your ever-important job at Staples."

"Right, because your profession as a receptionist is _so_ much more impressive."

"I never said it was." I wasn't hungry anymore. I tossed the orange to the side, promising myself I'd clean it up before heading off to Chatham's. "I am, however, the only one in this family that has been accepted to Stanford, so when I'm the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company in ten years while you're flipping burgers, don't start asking me for any favors."

"Dammit!" Irma yelled at me, and I finally put down the paper to glare right back at her. "I know you're my brother, Atem, but God, you make it _really_ hard to love you, sometimes."

I could not find a response to this. I ended up just staring at her blankly, wondering who this girl was and where my sister had disappeared to. Not for the first time lately, I asked myself if this was really the Irma I'd lived with all my life, but had just been too blind and wrapped up in my own problems to notice. I wasn't sure if I liked either possible answer.

"Ugh, and now I'm all riled up," she went on, heading out of the kitchen, but not before sending me one more glare. "If I snap at my boss and get fired today, this is on you."

I heard the door slam a few moments later. She had probably taken my car, too, in her fury, but at that point in time I wasn't focusing on my method of transportation to get to work.

I was busy wondering when, exactly, her transformation had occurred. Probably when she started dating Tristan. He was an upstanding guy, a nice fellow to have around the house. Boyfriend material. A guy that could help someone organize their life and be there for that someone when nobody else was. Not even their brother.

There had never been a doubt that Tristan Taylor had had an impact on my sister's life; I'd just never realized how big of one. Not only did he have her dressing nicer and using new vocabulary, but I discovered now he had her thinking differently, too. Years ago, Irma and I would poke fun at our mother behind her back all of the time. We knew how her brain worked, and we knew how ridiculous she could be. And now, Irma started actually caring about our mother and her job; she was taking care of Mom, like Tristan took care of her. Like he took care of his other friends.

Maybe Irma could be saved that easily. But not me. Never me.

* * *

As I'd expected, Irma had once again stolen my car before I could get to it that morning, so I was forced to take the Metro to and from the strip mall to work my shift at Chatham's. When I got off, late in the afternoon, I missed the bus by about five seconds. Grumbling, and impatient, I turned down the next street and started walking home.

It started drizzling within half an hour; I moodily cursed myself for not bringing a jacket, stalking down the sidewalk just outside the Bendo's Arcade. _Stupid freaking weathermen, promising sunshine and cloudless skies. What a load of shit._

I heard yells. Loud ones, coming from the alley on my right. Shouts and screams and laughter, so loud and obnoxious that I purposefully went out of my way home to stomp over to the scene just to demand that they shut the hell up. I reached the entrance to the alley and paused.

It was a fight. And not a very fair fight, either – two big guys ganging up on a smaller one. The larger teenagers were whistling, cracking jokes, howling, pushing and shoving and beating the kid up; clearly, they were enjoying themselves. I vaguely recognized the thugs from our graduating class that year, but I didn't particularly care: I was more interested in the third figure, crouched on the ground. And I could most certainly identify him.

"What the hell is this?" I demanded, and two of the three people immediately looked over at me. Yugi didn't move.

"Get lost, Yamino," one of the thugs – Ushio? I couldn't remember, they all looked and acted as stupid as the next – instructed, waving me off. "Don't interrupt us, or you're next, got it?"

He brandished a knife, moving back toward Yugi.

I was torn between leaving and actually doing something. And they both seemed like pretty stupid ideas, to be honest – but I found that it was the latter that I acted on instinctively, as if my default setting was protecting small teenagers from getting roughed up from assholes with more muscles than common sense.

I felt myself stalking forward, grabbing Ushio's knife out of his hands and punching him square in the jaw. I have never been an exceedingly strong individual and I was not about to lie to myself and say that I was, but I threw all of the strength that I could into that fist, and I would be lying if I said it didn't feel like one of the damn best things I'd done in a long time.

He stumbled back a bit – though I suppose it was only out of shock than out of my actual physical force – and then stared back at me for a moment, still bewildered. "What the hell's your problem?" he yelled at me. "I told you to get–"

I lifted my foot up, jabbing at his abdomen; he went down immediately, and I briefly wondered why he wasn't fighting back. Not like I was complaining.

"You listen to me, Ushio, and you'd better get this through your head this one time because I'm not repeating it," I said loudly and clearly over the rain. I still wasn't even sure if that was his name, but at the moment I didn't particularly care. "I've had a shitty day. Duke won't shut up with his stupid jokes, I've got so much crap going on inside my house it's a wonder I haven't killed my mother yet, my sister stole my car, my job is the deepest circle of hell, and it started raining as I'm forced to walk fifteen miles home after the damn bus couldn't slow down for two seconds.

"And now, just what I needed to make my day complete: I run into you practically murdering a friend of mine in a back alley with your moronic pal in a fight that I just can't help but protest is the slightest bit unfair." My foot, still situated on his lower stomach, pressed down harder. "I'm extremely pissed off, not exactly willing to make nice, and looking for a way to relieve some of this stress that's been hanging over my head the entire day. I could easily rip out your kidney, eat it raw, and go get a cappuccino. How does that sound?"

I'd exaggerated a bit with my list of complaints, now that I'd voiced them to someone else (my conversation with Duke had actually been yesterday, in all honesty) – but hell, they still ticked me off like God knew what, and it wasn't as if I'd go back to correct them now.

Ushio stared up at me, and his eyes narrowed. He leaned down and spit on my shoe, and I resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. I didn't have the time to, however, as his meaty fist suddenly locked onto my ankle, yanking me down and my body crashed against the hard ground.

I'd taken a few years of martial arts a while ago. Not enough to know how to do an exceedingly vast amount of damage, or how to kill someone with a piece of raw spaghetti, but I did know how to break a nose. Which I demonstrated very happily as the other thug reached down to attack, now that I was apparently vulnerable.

He jumped back, clutching his nose at blood spewed everywhere. I turned back to Ushio, clutching the knife even tighter and launching at him with the idea of merely scaring and not actually wounding.

My initial intentions changed drastically as I discovered that he, on the other hand, was more than content with hurting me. His fist met my stomach and for a moment I lost my breath; it was regained within a moment, however, and soon, my eyes were narrowed as he pounced on my body, his hands grasping around my neck.

If I hadn't made a habit out of wearing a belt around my neck, that probably would have hurt a lot more than it actually did. As it was, though, I found enough strength between shortened breaths to swing my right arm up, along with the knife, to rip open the skin on his forearm.

I wasn't sure if the cut hit any arteries or anything, but it did start bleeding like hell; and there was apparently enough pain to force Ushio to jump back a second, his hands immediately removing themselves from my neck to grasp at the wound. I took the opportunity to sock him again with my other fist; this time, he was caught off even more unaware, and was soon sprawled on the ground, rubbing his nose.

I got up, kicking him once for good measure (or perhaps just because I still so ticked off, I couldn't tell) before turning at a sound behind me. The other guy had ran into a trash can – which now lay on the ground, having been knocked over – as he sprinted from the alley, clutching his bleeding face.

My attention turned back to Ushio, who was clutching his own broken nose. Still, the satisfaction hadn't come yet; so I stepped over him, lifting one foot and slamming it down on a cheek, forcing one half of his face into the dirt.

"I'm still waiting for your answer," I informed him, "though I suppose you'd most likely prefer it if your vital organs remain intact in their respective places." I took a few breaths to even out my heavy breathing. "What do you say, champ?" Slowly, I lifted my foot off of his face.

"I say," he breathed out, vicious but still so obviously defeated and broken, "that you can rot in Hell, you miserable son of a fucking–"

I reached down, grabbed his collar, and tossed him in the same direction that his pal had scampered off. "Get lost, before I change my mind about devouring that kidney of yours." I stared at him evenly. "You know I would." And I think the part that scared me is that I knew it, too.

He took a few seconds to collect himself before heading off, as well, clutching his arm and flipping me the bird before disappearing around the corner.

I gave myself a few minutes to let my heartbeat calm down; and then I looked over at the shuddering figure a few feet away, bleeding and soaking wet and so cold and lonely that just I couldn't bring myself to leave. Which didn't make all that much sense, I figured. I'd done more than my charity work just by getting rid of those assholes. I could go now. I wasn't his freaking mother.

But I crouched down anyway, and moved over. Yugi didn't seem to notice me; he had curled himself up, eyes clenched shut to block away the pain that the world had thrown at him – pain he'd felt more than once, I'd imagine. He wasn't crying (though in the rain, it was hard to tell), but his breath came in shuddering breaths, as if he was trying very desperately to calm down, and promise himself things would be all right.

I don't know why I did it, but I moved even closer, brushing some of his blonde bangs back to examine a long cut on his forehead. The sky's water was washing some of it away, and it didn't look to deep, but it did need some disinfectant. As well did a fair amount of the rest of his injuries.

He let out an odd sound that, at first, sounded like he was trying to say something. I leaned closer to hear, and realized that it was a sob. A quiet one – he was clearly trying to cover it up, make it as soft as possible – but I'd heard it already. And I heard the next one.

I didn't have any sort of experience comforting people. I wasn't even very good at being comforted myself. So it was with hesitant, uncomfortable motions that I wrapped my arms around his small, shivering body, tucking his head underneath my chin and holding Yugi Moto as tightly as I could so he would understand that, despite my nature, I wasn't planning on leaving him like this anytime soon.

I didn't know how long we sat there, in the rain. The sun had drifted beyond the horizon a while ago, covering the world in dark, but I paid it no mind, focusing my attention on the teenager next to me. I had no idea what was supposed to happen or what came next. All I knew was that he needed me and I was there. And for now, that was about the best that I could do.

* * *

**A/N:** A reviewer pointed out that my story was going kinda slowly, ironically on the same day that I decided that I had to make something exciting happen. I didn't believe this to be a coincidence, so here is the result at my attempts at spicing up this story. –totally not good at writing violence– Please leave me a review, if you'd like. (: I'd really appreciate it. My thanks.

(For curiosity purposes – the scene with Atem's mother, where she declared herself officially muse-less and finished with writing for good, was inspired by many personal experiences consulting and comforting more than one of my friends participating in NaNoWriMo. If you're doing it this year, don't give up, guys. :D)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue me. I'm a good girl, I am. Washed m' face an' 'ands b'fore I wrote this, I did.

**A/N: **Nobody seemed to think that the fight scene was _too_ horrible last chapter, which I was relieved to discover: I've never really written action before, so I'm glad it wasn't a total bomb.

I've discovered an addiction to watching subbed Japanese Yuugiou episodes, so I can blame YouTube for not letting me work on this chapter. Hopefully it's still good, but you can let me know that. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"_There_ you are, Ate – oh my God, what the hell happened?"

"Not now, Irma," I growled, shoving past her to get inside the front door. Yugi and I were still wet from the rain, and as water stained the carpet, I began trudging upstairs to our spare bedroom. "You know anything about taking care of some cuts and bruises?"

"I – well, I guess a little bit, the general stuff, but – look, tell me what happened!" she demanded, closing the door and following us up the stairs.

"In a moment." I reached the spare bedroom, nudging the door open with my foot and getting Yugi situated on the bed before turning around to face her. "All right. So… get to it, then."

She stared at me. "What?"

"Fix him up, grab the Neosporin, whatever you need to." I sighed, exasperated. "_Please_, then. Irma, I'm completely useless with this sort of stuff."

"I'm fine," a soft voice spoke from behind me. Yugi was awake. "Really, just… I can go home, I'll be fine."

Like hell. "And what, exactly, would your grandfather say? I can't just drag you back to your house just to have him kick my ass out onto the street."

"You didn't do this," he told me, breathing out each syllable slowly.

"Your grandfather doesn't know that," I reasoned. "He doesn't even know _me_."

"He'll understand," Yugi protested.

I ignored his delirious state of mind, turning back to Irma. "So what happens first?"

She bit her lip. "Well, um… Yugi, what hurts the most?"

"I'm fine," he protested, but his voice held less force than before. "Really, just take me home…"

"Just fix up the cuts and put some ointment on the bruises, or whatever," I instructed, moving toward the phone. "Yugi, what's your phone number?"

"I'm fine," Yugi repeated once more, but he gave it to me anyway. I typed the numbers in as Irma left the room, heading downstairs and explaining that she needed to grab something.

Yugi's grandfather picked up on the second ring. "Hello, Kame Game Shop. Solomon Moto speaking."

"Hello, Mr. Moto," I said, ignoring Yugi's protesting from behind me. "My name is Atem Yamino. I'm one of Yugi's friends from school. I don't know if he's ever told you about me, but…"

"Ah, Mister Yamino," Solomon chuckled. "Yugi has mentioned you over the past week or so, yes, but I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you face-to-face yet."

He was so polite and cheerful that I had to feel horrible about not telling him about Yugi's condition. "Hopefully we can introduce ourselves soon, sir. I was just calling to say that Yugi's staying at my house for the night. I hope that's all right with you, being so last-minute."

"It's fine," Solomon replied, "but if you don't mind, may I speak to him? Is he there?"

"Of course." I took a breath and handed Yugi the phone. He stared up at me with an odd look on his tired face that I couldn't decipher, but put his ear to the device nonetheless.

"Hi, Grandpa." His voice sounded so soft that I wondered if Mr. Moto would immediately catch on, but I couldn't hear any worried yelling from the other line yet. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry this is so spur-of-the-moment, but I ran into Atem a few hours ago and he invited me over to see some of his Duel Monsters cards, and I guess we kind of lost track of time. He says he won't let me walk home alone this late, so we were just calling to see if you're okay with it."

I nearly stiffened when he mentioned me not letting him walk home. Did I honestly seem that controlling? I mean, I definitely wouldn't have let him leave the house by himself considering how late it was, but it was all with his best interest at heart. He had already been roughed up that night; I didn't want to risk that happening again. And it wouldn't, because he wouldn't be going home until the morning. I wouldn't let him.

"Sure thing, Grandpa. Yeah, I'm fine with it. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Bye." Yugi turned the phone off and handed it to me as Irma came back into the room.

"Okay, well," my sister began, coming over to the bed, "I talked to Mom, and she gave me this weird-smelling medicine that she claims will heal cuts within a few hours, so–"

"You talked to Mom?" I stared at her. "What, pray share, did you tell her?"

She stuck her tongue out at me. "I said that I sliced my finger when making dinner, and she searched through all of her crap to find this." She showed us a finger-length bottle with a label that read 'Boyd's Balm.'

I examined it. "Does it work?"

"No, I just wanted to bring it up here to show you guys the nice color it makes in the light," she told me sarcastically. "Of_ course _it works, dummy." She paused. "Or Mom says it does."

"You know as well as I do how twisted her mind is."

"Whatever." She took Yugi's arm, squeezing a bit on a particularly nasty cut and rubbed it in for a few moments.

I watched Yugi's face as she did this. "How does it feel?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Like any kind of disinfectant, I guess… it kind of burned at first, but now it's cooling."

"Okay, that should be enough," Irma said. She moved onto the cut on his forehead, dabbing a bit on the skin there, rubbing her fingers over pale skin. "Where else?"

Yugi hesitated, and I raised my eyebrow at him. He saw this and sighed. "I've got a small cut underneath my chin, but the rest of it is just bruises…"

"I'll grab some ointment for that." Irma left the room once more.

I picked up the balm she had left behind. "Lift up your head."

"Atem, really, I can–"

"Lift up your head."

He looked as if he barely refrained from sighing, but lifted his chin nonetheless. The cut wasn't as deep as the other one, but he winced when I put on the medicine.

"This stuff'd better work," I muttered.

"I think it's working," Yugi commented as I smeared some onto his cut. "The one on my arm feels better already. It should be fine by tomorrow morning."

I almost snorted. "That's optimistic."

"Well, you can expect my arm to fall off, if you want," he said. "But personally, I just can't subscribe to that way of thinking."

I smiled despite myself. Looking at his face, resting against a pillow, I thought of the first night, when we met at the burger joint. I thought of my first impressions, when he'd taken the seat across from me and opened up, so personally, so quickly. I realized that he wasn't really at all what I'd assumed or expected. And I wondered if I'd surprised him, too.

* * *

The next day was the weekend, and as I had Saturdays off at Chatham's, so I drove Yugi to his place at around ten-thirty. He was smoothing his fingers across the cut on his arm, almost like the way I once traced the key around my neck, as if he needed to memorize it.

"That stuff really works," Yugi commented happily, examining his skin. "I can barely see it."

I looked over at him. "Glad to hear it."

I could see his head turn to peer at me. "Is something wrong?"

"No."

"There is," he declared. "What is it?"

"It's nothing." I focused on the road.

"Atem…" His eyes didn't leave my face. I could tell he wouldn't give this up.

"Yugi, you…" I led out a breath of air that might have been a sigh had I been anyone else. "How often does that happen?"

I could tell he didn't want to talk about this. But he had asked, and I wanted to know. I needed to.

"Not so much anymore," he said, and at my snort he protested. "No, really." He idly brushed his blonde bangs out of his face. "They left me alone when sophomore year was wrapping up, since that was when I became friends with Joey and Tristan. And Bakura, too, if you count him." He shrugged. "This was actually the first time in a… while. I just took a bad shortcut that I should have been smart enough to avoid, and…"

He trailed off. After a minute or so of silence, I looked over at him to find he was staring at the window in a way that implied he wasn't really seeing what was flying by outside the car. I waited patiently for him to finish, but when he spoke, it was clear that his thought process had moved somewhere else.

"It used to be a lot worse."

I remained silent.

"I used to come home like that almost every night." He huffed, frustratingly moving the piece of hair from before back into its place. "And Grandpa would know, even though I didn't tell him… still, there wasn't anything we could do, you know? Standing up for myself would just make it worse, we both knew that. So would telling the school… so I guess I just grew used to it."

I noticed my hands were clenching the steering wheel tighter than necessary. I lessened my grip slightly, and my white knuckles regained a tiny bit of their color back.

"Atem." His eyes rose to watch me again. "You can't…"

"I won't tell." I kept my eyes on the car ahead of me, memorizing the license plate to avoid the rage building with this new-found information.

"…Thank you." He was silent for another long moment.

"I won't tell," I continued, "but you have to promise me something."

I saw his head turn.

"If this happens again," I said, my anger slowly diminishing though my hands still hadn't lost their tension, "you know where to go."

"I…" He bit the side of his lip.

"Yugi," I said, and he turned to look at me with a look I couldn't decipher, not yet. "This is the only option I'm allowing you. Or if you like, I honestly wasn't kidding about eating Ushio's ki–"

"No, it's – that's fine," he agreed finally, nodding. "I'll… yeah. Just, please, don't tell anyone."

We were close to his house now. I turned left, spotting the green roof at the end of the street, and asked, "Why don't you want people to know?"

"It's… just…" Yugi sighed heavily. He _really _didn't want to talk about this, apparently. "If everyone finds out, they'll just think that I… can't…"

I drove the car up to the game shop and took the keys out quietly. "Who's 'everyone'?"

He didn't answer.

"Your friends?"

Yugi nodded.

"They'll think you can't take care of yourself."

"I'm eighteen," Yugi said suddenly, firmly. "I'm an adult. I don't look it, but I am. I've always been small, I've always been an outcast, but I'm an _adult_ now, a 'grown-up' – but this is still… _happening_." He stared at the hands in his lap. "It shouldn't be, should it? I don't think it should…"

"It shouldn't," I repeated firmly, leaning over to him. "Hey." Taking a risk, a leap I knew that I wouldn't with anyone else – because this was _Yugi_, it was _Yugi_ and he was just so different than I had expected him to be – I reached my hand out to grasp his own firmly on his lap. "You're right. We are adults now, and in an ideal world, adults would act like adults. But you know as well as I do that this isn't an ideal world."

He didn't say anything.

"We just have to deal with what we can, and let the rest happen as it does." I watched him closely. "If that means for you to let those bastards knock you around, then so be it. But me personally, I can't subscribe to that way of thinking."

This got the smile I was hoping for.

"I don't think that this should be happening, you're right," I told him softly. "And I also don't think that it should have started in the first place. I can't convince you to stop it – you have to do that." I removed my hand from his – it was getting more than a little awkward – and returned to my side of the car. "But if you don't know how to do it alone, then at least now you know where to go. You promised."

His smile widened slightly and we got out of the car. I brought him up the front of his house and after Yugi opened the door he turned around.

"This should go without saying, but… yeah. Thank you," he said awkwardly. "I really do appreciate it."

"Anytime," I said, "as long as you don't tell me that it wasn't necessary."

He shrugged. "Sometimes it is, I guess. Maybe always. I wouldn't know."

"You'll figure it out."

Yugi smiled. "Yeah. I guess I will."

* * *

"Okay, now that you're back," Irma attacked me as soon as I walked into the house, "I want to know what you did to Yugi."

I stared at her incredulously. "_Excuse_ me?"

"You heard me," she demanded, following me as I slammed the front door with my foot and moved into the kitchen to grab a soda. "I want to know why you did that to him."

"Right, because I'm the kind of guy that makes a habit out of beating up smaller guys with a knife in the rain right before I wash my hands for dinner." I grabbed a Coke out of the fridge and opened it, already tired from this conversation.

"Well, yeah, maybe!" my sister said exasperatedly. "I didn't think you would, I mean – just when I think I know you, when I think I've figured you out – I thought you were better than this, and then you show up on our doorstep with poor Yugi all bruised and beaten up – "

"Why would I kick the crap out of Yugi and then take the time to bring him back to my house to clean him up?"

"Because you were scared of someone finding out that you hurt him, and now you're just helping him to cover it up."

"Oh? Who'd find out, then?"

"Me. And Mom."

"What the hell is she going to do?" I shot back at her. "What the hell has she ever done?"

Irma recoiled as if I had slapped her. "What do you mean, 'what has she done'? She's your _mother_."

"She's not much of one," I responded. "Irma, you keep defending her, you keep taking care of her – when has she paid any attention to us? When we needed her the most?"

"Plenty of times," she snapped. "She listens to me, at least. She won't pay attention to you because you don't ever waste your time with us. You're _too good_ for family." She crossed her arms. "Just because you have people issues doesn't mean that it's our fault."

I stared at her, desperate to get out of this conversation but never willing to admit it. "You heard Yugi," I told her. "He said himself that I didn't do it. You _know_ I didn't do that. I wouldn't."

"Well, you never can tell anymore," she said, now with less force as she realized that I was no longer on the offense. "I figured you might have… I don't know, persuaded him, maybe, into… I don't know. I just don't…"

"Irma…" I watched her. "You really think that I think I'm too good for you?"

She looked up at me. "Well, you… I don't know. I don't…" She sighed. "You're never around, you know? And whenever you are, you're always so… _surly_, and pessimistic, and you're always acting like you're up on some pedestal high above the rest of humanity…"

I blinked slowly, processing this information.

"I don't know what happened to you," she said finally. "We used to be cool, you know? Just me and you and Mom, us against the world. But then we moved here, and somewhere along the road, 'us' turned into 'us and them,' and then you decided you didn't even want to _be_ with 'us' anymore…" She was chewing the inside of her cheek. "And then I keep wondering if it was something nobody could control or if it was Mom's fault, or mine, or if it didn't even matter because you're _going_ at the end of the summer, and after that you're out of here. And we may never see you again, because you just seem to hate us so much, and…"

I needed to sit down. Slowly sinking down into a seat at the island, I slowly took another sip of the Coke – not because I was thirsty, but more because I needed to do something to distract myself from what Irma was saying.

Irma followed my lead, sitting two stools away from me. "Atem, you're my brother," she said quietly, staring at the tiles on the counter. "And if you say that you didn't hurt Yugi, then I trust you, because I would be a horrible person to not believe you when you obviously feel very strongly about his safety. I saw that last night."

I turned my head a fraction in her direction, admittedly intrigued about her observations about Yugi and me.

"You're going to Stanford in the fall, and I know that you're not _that_ much of an asshole to cut ties with us completely when you go off to live your own life, but… look, I remember what we had." She rubbed her forehead tiredly. "And I miss it. But you don't seem to, so I figure that you're okay with being alone, just _you_ against the world this time, so I've left you alone about all this. I don't want you to hate me, Atem, so I'll leave you alone, if you want me to. We're blood, and I would be a bad sister to yell at you and scream that you need to change yourself… it's your call, Atem. But I miss you, okay? Domino was a great place for us to come, and even though we grew up fast here, and you seem perfectly fine with that, so I guess I am, too.

"If you want to leave me behind forever, I guess I'm just going to have to deal with that," she went on quietly. "But I just… I don't know. It's up to you, I guess. I want you in my life, but if you want to keep me in yours, you're going to have to find a way to put me there. If that's too much trouble… I guess I'll just live with it."

A cold silence descended over the conversation, blocking any further words from her mouth and intimidating me too much to persuade me to speak myself. I couldn't bring myself to think about what Irma had just said. I didn't want to. I concentrated on the pattern on the tiles of the counter instead, determined to ignore this all for as long as I wanted to. As long as I could. However long it would last. Because as much as the rest of me wanted to deny it, a small, sad portion of my mind knew that she was right about a lot of it.

A phone went off. Irma looked at her cell phone, sitting on the table, and slowly picked it up. "Hello?"

I listened to the one-sided conversation, still firmly determined to concentrate on it and not anything else. Not how Irma looked so different than I remembered, now that I took the time to really look; not her words, the ones still revolving around in my head as if they were patiently waiting their turn to be processed and completely understood. Not how Yugi had looked at me when I'd made him promise to come to me when – _if_ – he got in trouble again. And definitely not how I actually cared about him when just a month ago I didn't even know he existed.

"Sure. No, it's fine. I'll see you in a bit. Right. Okay, bye." Irma snapped the phone shut and pocketed it. "I'm going to meet Tristan for a movie," she explained briefly, avoiding looking at me as she grabbed her purse. "I'll see you tonight."

She stood up. My mind seemed to be working slowly, as if my thoughts had been paused and were now resuming their normal speed process.

"See you," I said to her, though it wasn't until a minute later that I realized she was already gone.

* * *

The bell chimed as I opened the door, slipping inside the shop quietly and examining the games lining the shelves of merchandise.

"Welcome to the Ka – Yugi? I thought you were upstairs…?" a voice, decidedly male, asked from the back of the store.

I looked to find an aging man sitting behind the cashier, looking at me in a confused manner. "My name is Atem, Mr. Moto," I introduced. "I believe that I talked to you last night…"

"Ah, Atem," Mr. Moto said, smiling as he got up and walked around the main counter to shake my hand. "It's very nice officially meet you."

"Pleasure," I responded, sending back a smile politely. "Is Yugi here?"

"He's upstairs," he told me before turning his head and yelling up the stairs, "Yugi! Someone to see you!" Mr. Moto turned back to me. "I'm sorry for getting the two of you confused; now that I look, I can tell the differences, but at a distance…"

"We do look similar, I know," I shrugged off, and he gave a laugh.

"Who is it, Grandpa?" Yugi's voice came, growing louder. A second later he had entered the shop from the door that led to their house. He stared at me, surprised. "Atem? What are you doing back here again?"

I held up the Duel Monsters cards that I had retrieved from upstairs just before leaving the house for the second time that morning. "Care for a round or two?"

Yugi grinned. "Sure thing," he agreed, and as we set a table up I could hear Yugi's grandfather chuckling in the background.

* * *

**A/N:** I can't decide if I like this chapter or not. And I suppose that I should really be working on my science fair paper – but come on. You guys and this story are so much more important. :3


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue me. I'm a good girl, I am. Washed m' face an' 'ands b'fore I wrote this, I did.

**A/N: **I've just realized how truly annoying author's notes can be, so I'll try and cut down on the chatter. Check my bio for my LiveJournal if you_ really_ want to hear me ramble…

(And for the record, no, I do not have any beef with any of the YGO characters. Not even Vivian. But she was the only girl I could really think of to put in this scene, so… there we go.)

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

She had straight blonde hair and was wearing a light blue camisole. Her face was flushed and had on enough makeup to put on a play. One hand held a plastic cup of beer, almost unsteadily.

No way in Hell.

"Dina, this is Atem," Duke introduced. "Atem, Dina. Get acquainted."

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at me. "Hi."

"…Hello." I was going to murder Duke. I was not joking this time. God, I had _standards_.

"Let's go get a beer," Duke insisted, dragging the two of us to the bar. I tried my hardest to keep as far distance from Dina as I could without seeming impolite; but with the crowd the way it was tonight, that proved harder to do than usual.

"So," she began after we had our drinks, "you, uh, come here often?"

I tried my hardest not to glare at her. "Occasionally."

"Oh. 'Cause I'm here every Friday night, and I've never seen you, but Duke says that the two of you are always hanging around at Marquee's, and that – "

"Dina!" The voice came from the crowd, somehow reaching us over the volume of the people and someone's voice from the stage tapping the microphone and saying "Check, check." Before I could protest, a red-haired girl emerged from the mass of people and squeezed her way between me and Dina next to the bar. "Dina, _there _you are. I've been looking for you, see – "

"Is it important?" Dina asked her friend. "I was talking…"

"Yes, it's very important." Her friend glanced at me briefly in acceptance of my presence as I glared at her back. "Lissa's just been dumped."

Dina's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"Yes, I _know_. She's crying in my car right now, and I'm scared she'll get snot all over my seats, so if you could hurry up I'm kind of in a hurry to get her home – "

"Oh – right, er – " Dina turned to me. "Look, I'm sorry, but – I really should – "

"Go," I told her, but not before she scampered off with her friend into the crowd, abandoning her drink, Duke, and myself at the bar.

Duke sighed. "Rotten timing. Ah, well."

I looked at him.

"What?"

"I think you know what."

"I truly do not. Enlighten me."

"I'm not desperate, Duke."

"Who says you were?" he huffed. "Honestly, you didn't even give her a chance. Look, if it's the sex you're worried about, I can tell you myself it ain't all that bad – "

I shouldn't have been so shocked. "You two used to date?"

"Nah. Just hook up." He shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. He had to be drunk by now. "But that ended a while ago. Look, she's easy. And she'll shut up when you want her to, which I know is one of your top priorities. She won't spend your money, she won't complain that you're never there for her…"

"Then what the hell is the point?"

"I'm giving you an easy go, man." He scowled at me. "I'm practically handing you a girl on a silver platter and now you're complaining about what the _point _is?"

"She seemed about as interested in me as I am in her," I responded flatly. "It would _not_ have happened. It _will_ not happen. I'd like to choose who I date myself, if it's all the same to you."

"Yeah, well, you're taking way too damn long," he snapped, frustrated. "Just pick one already, will you?"

I had no response to this. It wasn't as if you could find a dateable someone just lying on the street.

He looked at me for a moment before huffing out a breath of air and running a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I think I'm drunk. And you're kinda pissing me off."

I seemed to be doing that to a lot of people lately. I watched as he finished his beer and left the cup on the counter.

"What time is it?" he asked me, and after I'd glanced at my watch and told him, he swore. "Damn. Look, I've got to go – "

"You're leaving me here?"

"It's not my fault that my father wants me with him to settle some stupid business deal over dinner with all these rich idiots." He didn't sound angry anymore; only slightly frustrated as he fumbled his wallet out from his pocket and handed me a few bills with a shaky hand. I had to wonder how his father would react when Duke showed up to his fancy dinner, completely wasted. "Get yourself a cab home, man. Sorry."

"It's… fine." But he left before he could have possibly heard me.

Upset with myself, Duke, and most of the entire stupid world population, I turned back to the bar, scowling. I had promised Irma that I'd only have one beer and then either have Duke give me a ride or call her to drive me home. Instead, I had two beers and decided not to bug Irma just yet. I set myself up at the bar with a decent view of the room and decided to stew for a while.

I don't know how long it was before I saw him. One minute, I was arguing with the bartender – a tall, foreign guy with an unpronounceable name – about classic rock guitarists, and in the next I turned my head and caught a glimpse of him in the mirror behind the bar. His hair was sweaty, his face a little flushed from the alcohol. He looked drunk, but I would have known him anywhere. It was everybody else who always liked to think he was gone for good.

I wiped off my face and ran my fingers through my hair. He stared back at me as I did this, knowing as well as I that these were all just smoke and mirrors, little tricks. Behind him and me the crowd was thickening, and I could feel people pressing up against me, leaning forward for drinks. And the disturbing thing? In a way, I was almost happy to see him. The worst part of me, out in the open. Blinking back at me in the dim light, daring me to call him a name other than my own.

* * *

Truth be told, I used to be worse. Much worse.

I hardly ever drank much anymore. Or smoked pot. Or went off with girls I didn't know that well into dark corners, or dark rooms. Weird how it never worked in the daylight, when you could actually see the lines of someone's face, the bumps and scars and little details that makes them unmistakably _them_. In the dark, everyone felt the same, edges blurred.

It wasn't the drinking or the smoking that was ever the problem. It was the other thing, the one harder to admit out loud. Nice guys waited. Nice guys didn't do what I did. But even before it happened, I'd never really considered myself as a nice guy.

It was early junior year, and Duke's next-door neighbor Mai (who at the time had not yet snagged a job at Marquee) was having a party. Duke's parents were out of town and I was staying over at his house, sneaking into his liquor cabinet and mixing anything we found together.

We never would have been invited to Mai's, being high school juniors, and weren't bold enough to even consider crashing. But we did go out on Duke's back porch with our spiked Diet Cokes and sneaked cigarettes. Some guy, who was already drunk and slurring, waved us over. After a bit of whispered conferring, which consisted of me saying I wasn't interested and Duke dragging me along anyway, we went.

That was the first night I ever got really drunk. It was a bad start with the cherry brandy, and an hour later I found myself making my way against Mai's living room, clutching an easy chair for support. Everything was spinning, and I could see Duke sitting on a couch in the living room playing quarters with a few kids from the local university. The music was really loud, and someone had broken a vase glass in the foyer.

It was one of Mai's friends, a really popular girl, who I bumped into on the stairs. She'd been flirting with me all night, and I'd pulled her into my lap when we played Asshole – and I'd liked it, felt vindicated, like it proved I wasn't some stupid high schooler. When she said we should hang out and talk alone, I knew where we were going and why. Even then, I wasn't new to this.

We went into a guest bedroom and started kissing, there in the dark, as I eased her back toward the bed; and then we were lying down, all so quick.

I'd always prided myself on having the upper hand. I had my patented moves to use whenever I got too – dare I acknowledge it – uncomfortable with my inexperience. But this time, they weren't working. It didn't help that I was so drunk that my balance was off, equilibrium shot. And it had felt wonderful, for a while.

God. The rest comes in bursts when I do reach to remember that far back. Always the crazy, sharp details: how fast it was happening, the way I kept coming in and out of it, one second vivid, the next completely lost. She was under me and everything was spinning and all I could feel was this weird tightness and closing-in feeling everywhere around me until I was gone, having completely lost touch with reality. It was not how I wanted my first time to be.

When it was over, I stumbled over to the bathroom, locking the door with shaking hands. Then I gripped the sink, gasping hard into it as my own breath came back at me, amplified in my own ears. When I lifted my head up and looked in the mirror, it was his face that I saw then. Drunk. Pale. And scared, really, and unsteady, still in shock as he looked back at me, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

* * *

"Sorry, mate." The bartender shook his head and put a cup of coffee in front of me. "You're cut off."

I wiped my face with my hand and looked at the girl beside me. "I'm fine," I said. Or slurred. Maybe. "I only had a couple."

"I know. They don't know anything." We'd been talking for about an hour now. Her name was Vivian, she was a freshman at some college I'd never heard of in Minnesota, and in the last five minutes she'd progressively slid her leg closer to mine while trying to pass it off as just the crowd jostling her. "So," she said, "guy like you must have a girlfriend."

"No," I said, poking at the coffee with a spoon.

"I don't believe you," she said as she picked up her drink. "Are you lying to me?"

I sighed. This entire scenario was like the default talk-to-the-guy-at-the-bar script, and I was only playing along because I wasn't entire sure I could get off my bar stool without stumbling. At least Irma was coming. I'd called her. Hadn't I?

"It's the truth," I told her. "I really am such a bastard."

She looked surprised at this, but not necessarily in a bad way. She actually looked kind of intrigued, as if I'd just admitted I cross-dressed or was double-jointed. "Who told you that?"

"Everyone."

"I've got something that'll cheer you up," she said.

"I bet you do."

"No, really. It's in a private room, backstage. Come with me and I'll show you."

Like I was that stupid. Anymore. "I'm going to take off."

She leaned closer to me: she smelled like perfume, something strong. "Oh, come on, Aden," she said, finishing her drink. She couldn't even get my stupid name right. "Let's go." And then she put her hand on my arm, curling her fingers around the elbow.

Then she started to tug me off my stool, which normally I would have made more difficult, but again, my balance wasn't exactly right on just then. Before I knew it I was on my feet, then getting yanked through the crowd.

"Vivian!"

A guy came stumbling toward us from the crowd. He was about half a foot taller than me, and he looked completely intoxicated. He scanned the both of us quickly, eyes narrowing. "Who is this guy?"

"Just a friend I met at the bar, sweetie," Vivian told him, an easy smile on her face as she moved over to lean on this guy. "I was going to take him back to the room, to show him – "

"Hey." The guy took a step toward me, towering over my height. "What's your problem?"

I just looked up at him, not trusting my voice not to shake or slur my words in what would normally be a witty one-liner. _I'll be fine. Irma's coming. I'm waiting for Irma._

"You gonna answer me?" he growled, and soon, I felt a weird sort of tension around my collarbone; his fist had grabbed my shirt, tilting my head up to look him straight in his glazed-over eyes. "What's wrong with you, hitting on my girlfriend?"

"Darren, honey, we're just friends," Vivian cooed, wrapping an arm around the guy. "Come on, let's all have another drink, and – "

"Shut up," he nearly yelled at her, shaking her off him. She went stumbling into the crowd, knocking a few people off their balance. "Listen kid," he told me, "you hit on my girl, and you – "

I don't know why I did it. I clearly didn't think it through. But somehow I managed to pull my arm up, hard, and it flew over and socked him in his left eye. He stumbled backward slightly, crashing into a few others.

"What's going on here?" I recognized Mai's voice. Now I realized that people were looking at us, in that mildly-interesting-at-least-until-the-music-starts-again kind of way. How had I let this happen? A few nasty conversations with Duke and my sister and suddenly I'm bar trash, fighting in public with some brute named Darren? I could feel the shame rising up. Everyone was staring.

"We were just talking at the bar and we go to go outside and he _freaks_," Vivian said, helping Darren up and staying close to his side. "We were just going to go somewhere private, and…"

"Crazy bastard," Darren said. "He_ hit_ me."

I was standing there, rubbing my arm and hating myself. I knew if I turned around I'd see that guy again, so weak and screwed up. He'd go to that private room, no problem. After that night at the party, he'd gotten a reputation for it. I hated him for that. So much that I could feel a lump rising in my throat, which I pressed down because I was better than that. Much better. I didn't trot my pain out to show around. I kept it better hidden than anyone. I did.

"God, this is swelling," Darren whined, rubbing his eye. What a wuss. If I'd hit him on purpose, well, that would have been different. But I didn't even have my arm in it. It was an accident.

I noticed that Mai was watching me. But she had to do her job, and I couldn't blame her for that. "You want me to call someone?" she asked me quietly.

I was suddenly so hot, and I could feel my shirt sticking to my back with sweat. The room tilted, just a bit, and I closed my eyes.

"Oh, man," I hear someone say, and suddenly there was a hand gently on my forearm, squeezing slightly. "There you are. We've still got a few minutes to catch the bus, Atem, no need to cause a commotion."

I opened my eyes to see Yugi standing beside me, holding my arm. He looked worried, but the corner of his lips twitched slightly, as if it were a private, reassuring smile between just the two of us.

"Yugi, hon, this doesn't concern you," Mai said gently.

"It's my fault, though," Yugi replied in that quick, cheery way of his, as if we were all friends who met coincidentally on a street corner. "It is. See, I was late, and that makes my big brother worry sometimes, and you wouldn't believe how irrational he gets when – "

"He hit Darren," Vivian said. "We might have to call the cops…"

Yugi looked at me, then at Darren. "He hit you?"

Now Darren didn't seem so sure, glancing around. "I…"

Yugi looked back at me. "Atem, did you really? But you've _never_ been one to start a fight. What happened?"

Mai looked at the four of us, then glanced back at the doorway. "Either I do something or I don't," she told us all to expedite things. "I've got to get back to the door."

"Forget it," Darren told her. "We're out of here." And then he wrapped his arm around Vivian and they slunk off, but not before I noticed that yes, his eye was swelling. Wimp.

Mai turned to us. "You all right there, Atem?"

I still didn't trust myself to speak; I merely nodded.

"Take him home, okay?" she asked Yugi. "And calm Irma down. She always has a cow whenever he stumbles into the house like this, I hear."

Yugi nodded and I felt myself being led outside. As soon as I could feel the night air, cool on my skin and clearing my head a bit, I slowly pulled my arm out from his grip and started walking away.

"Atem?" his voice called. "Come on, the bus stop is this way."

"I can take care of myself," I told him quietly, and I knew that the force and hostility I had tried to add to those words did not come out very strong; instead, I sounded tired. Drained. "I don't need to be saved."

"Obviously," he said. "You almost got arrested for assault." He jogged to keep up with my pace as I headed for a pay phone. "Atem… are you drunk?"

"No," I said, though I may or may not have just tripped over something. "I just want to go home. I'm fine."

He dropped back beside me, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Really."

"Yes."

We were at the phone now. I reached into my pockets to pull out the bills Duke had given me – but I had no change. And suddenly it just seemed to hit me all at once – the arguments with Irma, the fight in the bar, my own pity party, and, right on the tails of that, all the drinks I'd consumed in the last few hours. My head hurt, I was deadly thirsty, and now I was stuck. I raised a hand over my forehead, pushing blonde bangs from my eyes, and took a deep breath to steady myself.

_Calm down, for God's sake_, I told myself. _Breathe._

But it wasn't working. Nothing was working tonight.

"Come on," he said quietly. "Tell me what's wrong."

"No," I said, and I hated the way I sounded. "Go away."

"Atem," he replied. "Tell me."

I shook my head. "Yugi," I told him, "not now."

"You need this," he insisted. "Come on. We don't have to go home. I'll take you back to my place."

Later, it would take me a minute to remember how exactly it happened. If I turned around and moved forward first, or he did. I just knew that we didn't meet halfway. It was just a short distance, really, not worth squabbling over. But his arms were wrapped around me and somehow, mine ended up around him because I needed this, though I would certainly deny it at the time. I could feel the key beneath my shirt pressed between the two of us, and I wondered if this was worth it, this one moment of weakness where I broke down completely in front of someone that I'd promised I'd never let happen. And maybe it didn't even matter if he took the first step or I did. All I knew was that he was there.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue me. I'm a good girl, I am. Washed m' face an' 'ands b'fore I wrote this, I did.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

I woke up with a slightly-throbbing headache in a dark room that I didn't recognize. There was a light coming in a tiny slit underneath the doorway that reached across the carpet to the end of the bed that I was laying in.

I sat up, and my head spun. Dammit. Nothing looked familiar. There was a desk on the left next to the window, and a skylight in the ceiling with a closet facing the bed… and a Dark Magician poster on the wall. I'd recognize that card anywhere.

I blinked. Yugi?

_Okay, okay_, I told myself_. Just think._ The last thing I remembered was me and Yugi at the phone booth. Had he been serious when he said he'd bring me back to his house?

I pushed off the blankets and got out of bed, putting on the shoes that sat on the floor. For some reason, this made me feel better, more in control. Then I picked up my ID that was lying next to it, stuck it back in my pocket along with my cell and sat down to think.

First things first: the time. There was a digital clock, I could see, sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. 1:16 a.m. Beep.

Jesus, how long had I been out? I remember telling Duke what time it was back at the bar, but I'd stayed for a few more hours after that until getting in that stupid fight with that Darryl bastard, or whatever his name had been. And Mai had come. And then Yugi.

It was really bothering me that I still didn't know what was going on, but I couldn't stay there anymore. I needed to get home.

I dialed Irma's cell. I couldn't risk calling the home number and waking Mom up. She didn't have to know. I held the phone close to my ear, awaiting my sister's inevitable wrath.

"Mmmpht."

"Irma?"

"Atem Yamino. I am so going to kick your fucking ass."

"Hey, okay, but listen – "

"Where the hell are you?" She was wide awake now, somehow managing to sound totally pissed and keep her voice down at the same time. "Do you know how worried I've been? How worried _Duke_ has been? After he finished that dinner with his dad he called me to see if I'd picked you up yet – I hadn't, of course, because you never gave me the courtesy of a _phone call_ – just to see if you'd gotten home safely. I told you to stay for one beer. That was _six hours ago_, dammit!"

"I… I ended up staying a bit longer."

"Clearly. And I then ended up driving over to Marquee to look for you just to figure out from Mai that you were drunk, had been in a fight, and then you completely disappeared with Yugi. What the hell are you thinking, Atem?"

"I understand you're mad, all right? But right now I need you to – "

"Do you think I enjoy getting repeated phone calls from Duke, claiming that if you were dead and lying in a ditch somewhere it's my fault, because as your sister I am obviously supposed to have some sort of psychic connection that allows me to know when I am supposed to pick you up without the benefit of a phone call?"

This time, I was quiet.

"Well?" she snapped.

"Look," I said, keeping my voice down. "I screwed up. I know that. You can yell at me later. But right now I'm at Yugi's house – I think – and I need out and… look, could you just come and get me?"

She huffed. "Tell me where you are."

I gave her the directions. "Irma, I really – "

She hung up. Okay, well, now we could both be pissed at me. But at least I was getting home.

I walked to the door and leaned against it. Curiosity got the better of me; I'd never seen Yugi's house beyond the game shop before. Slowly, I opened the door, silently thanking that it didn't creak, and slipped out the room and down the stairs.

There was a light on in what appeared to be a kitchen on my left. I could hear voices laughing in it; they sounded familiar.

"Not bad, my boy." That was Yugi's grandfather, if I recognized his voice correctly. "But you've left your queen wide open."

"C'mon, Yug, you can get it back," another voice encouraged – Joey. What was he doing at Yugi's house this late?

"Maybe later. But right now, I'm interested in _this_," Yugi said triumphantly, and as his grandfather groaned and Joey cheered, he concluded, "Checkmate, Grandpa."

"Well done, Yugi," the old man said with good humor. "I haven't been defeated in chess in a long time."

"You should enter a chess competition, Yugi," Joey's voice suggested. "That was _epic_."

"I'm not that good," Yugi shrugged off. I could imagine his face heating up at the compliment. "But thanks."

There was the sound of someone getting up from his chair; I could see a figure move past the doorway to get to the kitchen counter, and I ducked down to avoid being seen. It was Mr. Moto. "How long do you think he'll be out, Yugi?"

"…I don't know, Gramps." A sigh. "He looked pretty… tired, when I ran into him at the arcade."

The arcade? _Tired?_ What exactly had Yugi told his grandfather to allow me to crash in his room? I felt horrible.

"Oh, Yug, guess what!" That was Joey again. "Seriously, guess – it's great news."

"What is it?"

"No, you're supposed to _guess_."

"I don't – thanks, Grandpa," Yugi said as Mr. Moto moved from the counter with a refilled drink. "Hmm… did you finally beat Duke at Duel Monsters?"

"Ugh. No. Not yet, anyway. But I will. Anyway, you really want to know?"

"Just tell us already, Joey," Mr. Moto's voice chuckled.

"Mai asked me out."

"Wow, really?" Yugi's voice was ecstatic. "That's great! So when's your date?"

"Well…" Joey seemed hesitant now, almost sheepish. "It's not really a _date_, technically. She said that she'd be eating lunch at this Chinese place tomorrow – but she gave me its address, so she obviously wants me to be there. Right?"

"Definitely," Yugi agreed. "You should go."

"I will," Joey replied with enthusiasm. There was a pause. "So – just curious, but while we're on the subject of dating, have_ you_ found any prospects? C'mon, I saw the way you used to look at Téa – if you like her, you should totally grab her before she gets a boyfriend, Yugi."

"I – no, that's not… I, er…" I wasn't perplexed to hear that Yugi sounded uncomfortable. He didn't seem like the type to want to share his personal life. "What I mean is, I…"

"Yugi?" Mr. Moto's voice was soft, curious. "Have you told him?"

"I was… going to."

I furrowed my brow, leaning in closer. Tell who what?

"Tell me what?" Joey asked. "Yug? Is something wrong?"

"I… Joey, I'm just going to say it." Yugi took a deep breath. "I can't… I'm not… I…"

"Yugi, you know you can tell me anything."

I felt dirty. This should be private. This was clearly something Yugi was very passionate and secretive about, something he hadn't told Joey, his best friend – I had no right to listen in. But, damn me to Hell, I found myself leaning in closer anyway.

"I don't like girls, Joey."

"How can you not like girls?" Joey began, laughing, before he cut himself off as an epiphany hit. "Wait. Wait, you… Oh. So you're saying that you're…?"

There was no response; I imagined that Yugi nodded his head, because Joey went on. "Oh. Um. Really?"

Yugi didn't answer – I could picture him sitting at the table, his head lowered to his lap – and Joey took his silence as the cue to keep on talking.

"No, seriously – Yug, that's okay," he went on, rushed. "Really, I'm cool with it. It doesn't weird me out or anything. Really. It's all right, that you're… it's all right."

Yugi was silent, but his grandfather spoke up. "No one aside from the three of us knows, Joey."

"Oh, I… thanks for telling me, Yug," Joey's voice said comfortingly. "Thanks for trusting me with this. I won't tell if you don't want me to."

Yugi's voice was quiet as he said, "Thank you, Joey."

"You're not ashamed about this, are you?" The blonde's voice was almost surprised. "…'Cause seriously, you shouldn't be. I mean, just look at Ryou and Bakura."

"…What?"

"Dude, can't you tell? They're totally all over each other," Joey replied happily, glad to have gotten some sort of reaction out of Yugi. "I mean, if you're afraid of how the gang'll react or anything, then you totally shouldn't worry about it. We're not going to scream at you for going against the ways of the Bible or anything."

Yugi's mind was set on one thing. "Ryou and… Bakura? Really? I never noticed…"

"You wouldn't," Joey said, and Mr. Moto laughed.

I didn't want to hear any more. So I dropped back at this point, crawling into the hallway to reach the game shop. I winced as the door made a tiny click, and then I pattered across the store's tiles to reach the entrance, grasping the bell in my hand so that it didn't make a sound as I unlocked it the door, slipped through it, and then relocked and closed it. Then I cut across the road to meet my sister.

Two streets over, I stepped off the curb by the stop sign and held up my hand, squinting in Irma's headlights as she came closer. She reached over, pushed open the passenger door, and then stared straight ahead again as I climbed in.

"Just like old times," she said flatly after a minute. "Well, how was it?"

It was too late to go into details, even with her. "Old."

We cut through a side street, and then passed Yugi's house on our way out of the neighborhood. The light in the kitchen was on, and I could imagine Yugi, Joey, and Mr. Moto inside, still talking about girls and boys and sexual preferences over chess and coffee. Yugi probably didn't even know I was gone yet. But just in case, I slid down slightly, dropping out of sight, even though I knew in the dark at this speed there was no way he could have found me even if he tried.

* * *

This time, I awoke to someone tapping on my window.

I opened one eye and looked around. I was in my room, lying on my bed, just like I should be. Everything was in place: the floor clean, my jacket folded next to the door, my universe just as I liked it.

I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow. Maybe if I pretended I wasn't here, it'd go away. But after a minute of waiting, it didn't.

"Go away," I mumbled into my sheets. "I mean it."

And then the window above my bed opened. It scared me half to death, but not as much as Yugi did as he crawled through it, losing his balance and falling over. He bounced off of the edge of my bed as I watched him, and ended up on the floor, somehow managing to bang his elbow on my bedside table. He ended up on the throw rug next to my closet. The whole thing was over in a manner of seconds.

Then it was very quiet.

Yugi lifted his head up, glancing around the room before his eyes finally met mine. We looked at each other for a long while, neither of us saying anything, before he finally sighed and let his head fall back onto the rug. He still seemed a little stunned by the impact; my room was on the second floor and climbing it, I knew from experience, was a bitch. "You at least," he began, "could have said goodbye."

I sat up straighter, leaning over the edge of the bed. I was still wrapping my mind around the fact that he was here, in my room. I wasn't even sure how he'd found my house. Irma might have told him – she was the friendly one in our family, always spontaneously inviting people she'd met at the bus stop over to our house for dinner or something – but it was still so bizarre. As was the entire trajectory of our relationship, when I thought about it. Ever since the day we'd met at Burger World, Yugi's and my paths had held with strange little experiences, filled with bumps and things that shouldn't have made sense, but somehow did. Like last night, at the bar. Or his confession that I'd eavesdropped on this morning.

Yugi sat up, rubbing his face with one hand. He looked at me now, as if it were my turn to say something.

"You don't want to get involved with me," I told him. "You really don't."

He seemed to ignore this, standing up with a wince and coming over to sit on the bed a few feet away from my leg. "You heard."

There was no use denying it. "…Yeah."

He nodded, as if it were acceptable for someone he barely knew to go creeping around his house and poking his nose into private conversations.

"How did you find me last night?" I asked him. "You don't seem one to hang out at Marquee…"

Yugi looked at me. "You called me."

I stared at him.

"Check your phone messages if you don't believe me," he replied, shrugging. "It was around nine or ten. I figured you wouldn't call unless you really needed help, so I told Grandpa and Joey that I'd be back in a while. And then I brought you home."

I thought I'd called Irma. Had I really called Yugi's number? Shit, I couldn't remember. The only thing from last night that stood out to me was Duke leaving, Vivian, the fight, and Yugi. I hadn't paid all that much attention as to how they happened. Like so much else, everything just did.

"I'm sorry if it was my fault that made you take off like that." He fiddled with the corner of one of my sheets. "You just… looked like you needed a hug. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

"I – no, Yugi," I said, watching his hands move across the fabric. "It wasn't that…"

"Then what?"

"I…" I scoffed at myself quietly, running a hand through my bed hair. "I told you. I'm not… I'm the kind of person that parents tell their kids 'Don't be like that when you grow up.' I'm not a nice guy, Yugi. Never have been. You really don't want to get involved with me."

Yugi shrugged. "It's kinda too late for that, I figured."

He was right. We'd already gone too far to pull back now and forget everything that had occurred. I wondered what had to happen next for everything to be normal between us again – or at least as normal as they could ever be. Nothing about the two of us seemed to be normal. Whatever that was.

"But I really am sorry," he went on. "Needless to say, you weren't supposed to hear that, back in the kitchen. I'm not upset that you did, because it's good for friends to be honest with each other about stuff like that, but… if it changes your view of me in any way, or anything, then I figure you'd be happy if we just stopped being friends. I'd understand."

I think it was then that it really hit me. Yugi was gay. I'd had a few hours to sleep on it, a little while to mull it over in my dreams, before it really hit home. I didn't know what to say. I didn't even know how to respond to it in my head.

As far as I knew, I was not homosexual. I could not say that I had ever tried dating men – it had never occurred to me, to be honest – but I suppose I had automatically assumed I was straight, right from day one. Perhaps I was wrong, and I would actually enjoy a relationship with a male, if I had ever given it the chance. I wasn't sure.

But it wasn't as if I was about to cut ties with Yugi just because he didn't enjoy dating girls. Who he liked was his choice. It wasn't fair for me to judge.

"If your only reasoning is that you think I'll mind that you're gay, Yugi," I started slowly, "then I don't believe that should stop either of us from being friends."

Yugi swallowed. "But I'm… no, there's another reason."

I raised an eyebrow.

He sighed, turning his head away. "You'll hate me for this one, I'm sure."

"Yugi."

"No, really. It isn't fair for you."

"Yugi…"

"But you have a right to know, okay? And it's not like I was ever going to do anything, or take the first step, or whatever, because… well, because. I can't. I'm not like that. I wouldn't."

It 'wasn't fair for me.' He knew he wouldn't ever 'take the first step.' I had a 'right to know'… No. He wasn't serious, was he? Somehow, I must have misunderstood. That couldn't be right.

"And – well, when I realized this yesterday, I wasn't really sure how to respond to it," he went on, still avoiding my gaze. "I knew that things wouldn't ever be the same with me and you again, if I told you. Especially not for me. But like I said – you're my friend, you have a right to know if I'm… gay. And as much as you might not want to, you have a right to know that I… you…"

He didn't finish his sentence before I stopped him. "Yugi."

He looked up at me, finally, apprehension in his gaze.

"I date women," I began. "I will be honest and say that I have never considered looking at another guy in such a way I do a girl."

Before he could turn his head I grasped his chin in my palm, making sure that he heard this, understood it completely.

"I have no problem with this," I went on. "I am not going to judge you on the kind of people you love. You are free to like whoever you choose. Even if that includes me."

He didn't answer. I wondered if I'd said something wrong. I mean, I'd just told him that he was free to continue liking me, and I wouldn't care. Yugi didn't seem the type to expect something in return from others, so I couldn't see what was still bothering him.

"Thank you," he said finally. His voice sounded so quiet. "I don't want this to ruin our friendship, but I thought… you needed to – "

"I needed to know," I repeated. "You're right, I did. And I thank you for your honesty, because most people wouldn't have the courage to do what you just did, Yugi. I do appreciate that."

Yugi nodded slowly, and then looked up at me after a long period of time. "I don't want anything," he said hastily. "You like girls, I get it. I'm not expecting, or demanding, that…"

"I know."

It seemed like this day could go out in so many different directions, every path shooting out toward endless possibilities. Whenever you made a choice, especially one you'd been resisting or putting off until later, it always affected everything else; some in big ways, like a tremor beneath your feet, or others in so tiny a shift you hardly noticed it at all. But it was happening.

And maybe someone somewhere on the other side of the world felt the earth move as I finally opened up to Yugi Moto, another teenager that was so like me in some ways and so different in many others. Maybe someone could feel the slight change in the atmosphere, could notice the affect as one moment passed to another in which a cold, hard-hearted eighteen-year-old decided to let another young, misunderstood teenager into his world and give him a chance to grow closer than he had ever considered allowing anyone. Maybe someone realized it, somewhere.

Or maybe it was just us.

* * *

**A/N:** We're now about a third of the way through this story. I'm not basing this measurement on the chapters, but more on the plotline. (I have this fic divided up into segments in my head, you see. Though I have a feeling that's the only place a lot of things make sense.) Anyway, um, reviews would be nice…


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue me. I'm a good girl, I am. Washed m' face an' 'ands b'fore I wrote this, I did.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

"So have you found anyone?" Yugi whispered.

I looked over at him. He was sitting in a chair next to my closet, flipping through my Duel Monsters collection. "Pardon?" I kept my voice low.

"That bet, with Duke. Back at Burger World."

Oh. Why would he be interested in that?

"No," I told him quietly, looking back at my cell as I checked my messages. Most of them were from Duke and Irma, asking where the hell I was at various points in time. I ignored the lot of them.

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about it," Yugi commented idly.

I shrugged. "It's not like you can just walk outside and run into someone on the street that you'll immediately fall in love with. It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?"

I looked at him. "It just… doesn't."

Yugi looked at me. "You sure?"

"Positive. Why?"

"No reason." He flipped a few more cards, inspecting my Dark Magician Girl.

"I hear you all whispering," Duke moaned from the corner, his voice muffled. "Can you please just shut up? I'm trying to _sleep_."

"Go somewhere else or quit bitching," Joey told him. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"On what?" Téa asked him from across the room, where she was nibbling on a sandwich and doodling on a few sheets of notebook paper.

"Nothing," Joey said, and if I hadn't known better I would have said his face was starting to flush.

"Let me see that." Tristan reached over and yanked it out of his hands, despite the blonde's protesting. "What the – is this a poem?"

"Shut up!" Joey lunged for the paper but missed as Tristan handed it over to Duke, whose eyes had snapped open at the prospect of messing with Joey.

Duke skimmed the page, raising an eyebrow. "What the hell is this, man?"

"It's – " We all watched as his face did turn red, this time. "Téa told me girls like sappy stuff like poetry, all right?"

Everyone turned to look at Téa as she grinned and shrugged. "Couldn't help myself. Sorry, Joey."

"What?"

"Dude, this sucks," Tristan declared, skimming over the words on the page. "Were you seriously thinking of giving this to Mai?"

Duke grabbed a pen from my desk. "We're fixing this. What else rhymes with 'tomato'?"

"Depends on if you want a real rhyme or a pseudo rhyme," Tristan commented.

Duke thought for a moment. "'Pseudo rhyme'?" he repeated.

"A real rhyme is 'potato.' But you could easily tack an 'o' onto another word and make a rhyme out of it, even if it's not grammatically correct. Like, say, 'relate-o.' Or 'hydrate-o.'"

"_Don't you give me no rotten tomato_," Duke recited, "_just 'cause your crazy shit I cannot relate-o_." The two of them burst into laughter at this as Joey scowled, Téa held back a grin, and I looked to Yugi.

He shrugged. "Needs work," he commented. "But I think he might be getting somewhere."

I chuckled.

Another day at my house, where I'd been spending a fair amount of my time lately with Yugi's friends. Irma had invited them over after an afternoon at the arcade, and as Yugi had inspected the lizards in Irma's closet, the party had somehow moved into my room when Joey had asked to see my Duel Monsters cards. Having the largest bedroom in the house (which it technically wasn't – it just seemed bigger than Irma's and my mother's because I actually bothered to clean the floor), everyone had immediately taken to it and camped out there whenever we couldn't decide what to do for the evening.

It was July. In two months, I'd be leaving for Stanford. I had to say, one month ago, I hadn't been expecting to make friends that I feared I might actually miss when I left for California – that hadn't been in my plan, so I suppose that was why I'd always been so reluctant to grow close to people. When left in September, I wanted to go with as little ties and connections with the people back home as possible.

If I didn't know how ignorant Yugi was on this matter, I would have thought that he was ignoring this decision of mine on purpose.

It wasn't like we were dating or anything. It'd only been a week since he'd told me his secret – _secrets_ – but I'd never been this close to someone before. I didn't know how else to think of a friendship.

For as long as I'd been dating, I'd had this chart in my head; a schedule, of how things should go. Relationships started with the initial romantic rush, where that new person you've let into your life solves all of your problems, or somehow allows you to forget the rest. This phase usually lasts about five weeks; and during it, this person is absolutely perfect. But at six weeks, the cracks begin to appear, the little things that niggle and nag that aren't important in the long run but still make you twitch every so often. Once, you might have thought these things were cute and endearing; but when you learn to put up with them, they become a nuisance and annoy you, but not enough to provoke you into changing anything. But at eight weeks the major structural damage in the foundation starts to show – the person is, in fact, human, and this is when most relationships splinter and die. I usually drop out by week seven, easing out gracefully because I know there will be someone else, another perfect person, that will heal everything, if only for five weeks.

It all came down to math.

If I did the math with Yugi, it was perfect. On paper, that is. We'd fit well under the three-month mark, with me leaving for college just as the shine was starting to wear off. Problem was, Yugi wasn't cooperating. If my theory of relationships – or, in this new circumstance, friendships – was plotted geographically, Yugi wasn't even left of center or far out in the right field. He was on another map altogether, one that I had never even known existed until he had shown up.

My main trouble with Yugi is that he really liked me. Not in an only-until-the-end-of-the-summer way, which was the safest – in fact, he never talked about the future at all, as if everyone had so much time to hang out and be friends that there wasn't a definite end to it all. I, of course, needed to make things clear from the start: I was leaving at the end of the summer, and there was no going around that. But he waved this off every time, evading the facts to sidestep the issue entirely.

I liked Yugi. He was a nice, sweet, fun to hang around, and he definitely had something I'd never seen in a person before. But that was just it: he was so different that I wasn't sure if I was ready to take a chance of going all the way. I'd decided to try and open up to him when he had done so with me – he had showed me something only a select few knew about, which was really significant, from him – and I felt obliged to return the favor. But I wasn't like Yugi. I couldn't be like Yugi. And that, in the end, was what it came down to.

"Atem," Tristan called from across the room, waving the poem around in the air, "what do you think?"

"'Relate-o' is a lame rhyme," I said. "Pseudo or not."

Duke winced, then smiled. "It's a work in progress."

Yugi looked over at me and gave me a hopeless what-can-you-do shrug and smile. I returned it.

It was weird. When I thought about it – and I didn't let myself do so very often – I occasionally realized that, just like Yugi with me, I had been comfortable with him even from the very start. There was no awkward beginning when you tested out someone's boundaries, seeing how far they'd allow you to poke fun or make yourself at home in their house. This wasn't normal; not with me, or with anyone else.

Except for Yugi. He was clearly content with the entire situation, happy with remaining friends even despite his confessed secret a week before. Yugi was so different than others I had met, and he was exceedingly hard to pin down in my mind and work out how he would react to things I might say or do. It was infuriating, and very frustrating. But I found I was getting used to this feeling of not understanding him completely, and realizing that that unknown knowledge, that hidden element about him, was really what intrigued me in the first place.

* * *

"So I've been feeling generous lately," Duke commented, stretching out next to me on the bench outside of Chatham's as we sipped on two sodas. "I've let you go with two weeks. But you're overdue, man."

Were dating and sleeping the only things that Duke ever thought about?

"I don't see why it's your concern," I replied, hoping he'd catch the hint and drop the subject.

He didn't. "We are going to Marquee tonight. And we are not leaving until you have yourself a new girlfriend."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not going. I… can't."

"Something going on tonight that you're not telling me?"

"No, it's… no." What was I doing? Did I really think that lying would solve this problem? "I've already found someone."

Duke looked at me, eyes widening ever so slightly. "You're kidding."

"And you're annoying." I leaned back on the bench, sighing. "Will you leave me alone, now?"

"_Now _you're joking. You can't honestly think that I'd let you go if you claim that you've found a girl to date? You know me better than this. I want to meet her. I want to make sure she knows it's official, and that she's not someone you paid or slept with to bribe her into dating you for a month."

Little did he know that she didn't exist. "Right."

"So when do I get to meet her?"

"I'll… see when she's busy." My watch beeped; thank God. I stood, tossing away the cup filled halfway with ice and soda. "Break's over. I've gotta get back."

"You're not squirming out of this one, Atem Yamino," Duke called after me as I walked back through the doors to get inside. "I'm persistent. I'm gonna meet this girl."

I knew that would come back to bite me in the ass later. I should have known that Duke wouldn't have been one to take my word for anything; especially anything female-related. But I couldn't keep myself focused clearly on the "now": it was summer, early July, so I didn't leave for a few more months – and it still seemed like I had time.

* * *

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought on it before. Of course, it was more than a little uncomfortable for me to even acknowledge: it was testifying against one of those normalities that you'd grown up with, gotten used to during your lifetime, but suddenly everything was closing in and pressuring you to change something, anything – or to live with this new, cramped environment. I didn't like the idea of either options, but the first one held more of my interest.

I still wasn't sure how to properly respond to Yugi's… confession. Yeah, okay, he was gay: I could live with that. I didn't have anything against homosexuals. Mostly because I never really cared enough to think about it all that much, but I personally could not see what the problem was if a girl liked a girl or a guy loved a guy.

As far as I could see, I was straight. I liked girls, and girls only.

But Yugi had me thinking. _He_ liked _me_, and though he had made it clear that he didn't expect any sort of similar feelings from me, that was all the more reason for me to question exactly how much I "felt" for Yugi, anyway. It made it safer, that way. If Yugi didn't want anything from me, I was safe. If Yugi wasn't expecting me to feel the same, then I figured I couldn't disappoint him.

I had made it clear that we were friends. How could we not be, after long afternoons playing Duel Monsters at his house, roughening up mindless bullies, and rescues from clubs in the middle of the night? He was a person that I'd never really known anyone else to be like, and in many ways, this both intrigued and scared me.

I wanted to be safe. I wanted familiarities. Yugi was none of that.

But people change. People grow to want different things. I wasn't limited to anything. If I could want to explore, tiptoe outside of my comfort zone, then that could be fine. I was still a teenager; it would be perfectly understandable for me to defy standard beliefs set for the community, and myself.

People _did _change. But I wanted to know how much change was acceptable.

"'Tem? You there?"

"I'm fine." I brought myself to the present, to Joey leaning forward against the front counter to investigate me as I sipped on a second drink I had bought just after letting off work an hour before.

"You're thinking about something," the blonde observed, sticking a finger in my face as a grin spread across his. "You're thinking about something _important_. C'mon, spill."

"It's nothing," I said, but he would have none of it.

"C'mon, you can trust me," he insisted. "I want to help. That's what friends do, isn't it?"

Was it? I had no idea. The only real friend I'd ever had was Duke, but he hardly counted. And the only other people I'd known long enough to develop a friendship were my mother and my sister, who I immediately rejected for obvious reasons. From what I'd heard, friendships were something different, something bonding in a way that boyfriend-girlfriend relationships might have had, once. They were something that you told yourself you had when you enjoyed somebody's company, but did not wish to grow any closer.

But these ideas contradicted what I'd learned with Yugi. According to the two of us, it seemed perfectly fine to want to get to know each other better. It seemed perfectly fine to get closer to this person in a way that those in a romantic relationship would.

It _seemed_ perfectly fine. But I wasn't sure. I couldn't be sure.

"I'm just a little confused about a few things."

"Like what?" Joey inquired, flipping through a few photos that were messily arranged on the countertop; something that looked important, that looked as if he were procrastinating on.

"…This."

He looked at me, and after a moment he held up the pictures in confusion. "What, this? It's simple, man – you just organize the photos alphabetically, and then – "

"No, not that." I let out a breath of air that may have been a sigh. "What you said. About us being friends."

"You're… confused about us being friends?" He raised his eyebrows. "What's to be confused about? Unless you think we shouldn't be friends."

"No, I'm glad that we're friends." This was not going at all like I'd planned. "It's – no, never mind."

Joey watched me carefully. "You're confused if we're friends or not?"

"No. It's nothing. Forget I said anything."

"If it's bothering you, it must be important," the blonde decided, leaning back into a chair that I couldn't see. "You're confused about… me? Was it something I did? 'Cause if it was, I'm sure a few of our friends could tell you they get the same feeling – "

"That was it."

"What was it?"

"Our… friends, our 'feelings'… that's exactly it."

Joey shook his head. "Sorry, you'll have to explain this to me like I'm a five-year-old. I'm just not getting it."

It seemed so trivial and childish, now that I was saying it aloud. But he'd asked, and at that point it'd just be rude to ask him to drop it. I shrugged, resisting the urge to sigh again. "This whole friendship thing. It doesn't make any sense."

"Well, when you're best friends with Duke Devlin for three or so years, I can't blame you," Joey said, frowning. "Look, Duke's a great guy and all, but he's not someone you should call a good friend until you've got a good, strong sense of the definition."

"And what is a good, strong sense of the definition?" I wasn't even sure why I was following along with this conversation. It didn't matter, in the end, what all this meant; I was leaving in September, anyway. It was all irrelevant. Why did I even care about these people?

Perhaps it was because I was a bit curious, deep down. Perhaps it was because I wanted to know exactly what this whole friendship thing truly was – and perhaps that was because I wanted to know if my current status with Yugi fit the bill.

"Well, it…" Now Joey didn't seem so sure, as if he wasn't as familiar with the phrase as he thought he had been. "Look, it's… hard to explain, y'know?"

No, I didn't know. But I was trying to.

"I guess it all depends on what you think of it personally," he finally settled on with a nod, and I swore internally. "It depends on what you want a friendship to mean, and what you think it should mean. 'Cause I could tell you about all my personal views on it – and you could talk to Téa about friendship until the cows come home – but they may not be what you want to hear."

"I'm comfortable with anything." That was a lie. I knew I wouldn't be. But I still didn't want to do this all by myself – I wanted, just this once, to be able to rely on someone to give me an insight on how the rest of the world thought about something, and not make my own opinions based on the little observations I'd made. I wanted to know what was normal, what was considered appropriate. I wanted to know what being a friend meant, so I could know exactly where to fit Yugi on this new chart.

"Well, to me…" Joey leaned back in the chair, kicking up his feet and flipping through some of the photos again. "Okay, first off: you've gotta understand that I love all my pals to death. They just get me through the day, y'know?"

_Someone to get you through the day. Got it._ "Yeah."

"And, they're…" He scratched his head. "Man, this is so hard when you want to put it in words. It's not something you can really explain to someone else; it's really just something you have to feel for yourself to understand completely. I love my friends, I really do – but I've also heard there's a lot of different kinds of love. There's the one for your soulmate, the romantic kind; there's the love for your family and all; there's the love for humanity, which never made much sense to me; and there's also the love for your friends, which… I guess is like the love for your family, except you're not born with them. You get to chose your friends."

_People you get to choose; people that you didn't have to waste your time on, but you did, because you think they are worth it. Because they_ are_ worth it. _"I see."

"And they're there for you," he went on, slapping the table for emphasis. "And you're there for them. Because they help you through shit, you know? They help you get through that bad day and give you reasons to smile when you've got reasons to frown, and then they take you out to Burger World and Bendo's to cheer you up."

"Why?"

"Because… because, well, you mean a lot to them. And they mean a lot to you. You'd do the same thing for them, and they know it – but you don't care about that, because it's not something that you think about. You just do it. They're that important."

_They are important. _

"Sorry if that didn't help." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Like I said, that's only how I think of _my_ friends. They're amazing people, and I wouldn't give anything up for 'em. That includes you now, too, you know."

I did indeed.

"Thank you, Joey," I told him, allowing a genuine smile to cross my face; because he had actually helped, despite what I'd predicted. "This really… thank you. It was helpful."

Joey blinked. "Oh, really? I… well, thanks. Glad I could help out."

"Yeah." I checked my watch. "When do you get off?"

"Dunno. Soon-ish. Why?"

"Just thought you'd have gone by now. I thought your shift ended around four."

He peered at my watch. "Why, what time is it?"

"Four forty-five."

"Oh. Yeah, I'd say it's time for me to go." Joey tossed the pictures back onto the counter in a pile before coming around it to meet me. "You coming to Bendo's? We're meeting up there at five. Or, we were, but I guess we'll be a little late now."

"Sure," I said, because I wasn't sure what else to do. I wasn't sure about a lot of things. If I would manage to scam Duke into believing that I actually did have a girlfriend for a month, or at least until I could find a real one. If Joey's terms of friendship applied to just himself, or perhaps others, as well. If Yugi was a friend like Joey and Duke, or something different, still completely off my predetermined chart.

As we walked out into the strip mall to reach the bus stop, I thought about what it was like to care about someone that much. To know that you'd do anything for them, and have the knowledge that they'd do the exact same for you. I wondered if it was a burden, something that weighed you down; or something that came out of a win-win situation that you could only benefit from. I wondered what it felt like, to love that much. And I wondered if I wanted to feel it at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue me. I'm a good girl, I am. Washed m' face an' 'ands b'fore I wrote this, I did.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

"The problem is," I began, flipping through the Kame Game Shop's latest booster packs, "there's no one that I'm interested in dating anymore. I think I filtered through all the relatively decent girls back in high school, and now I'm stuck with the pond scum that I didn't bother myself with before."

Yugi looked a bit taken aback at this. "That's a little… uh…"

"Unnecessarily rude? Yeah. But it's true, though."

"Here you go, boys." Mr. Moto walked back into the shop, carrying with him two glasses and a plate of snacks.

"Thanks, Grandpa," Yugi said, swallowing a sip of lemonade before turning back to me. "So you're stuck between dating someone you absolutely hate, or baring yourself to Duke and admitting that you lied just so he'd get off your back?"

"Pretty much," I said, nodding my thanks at Mr. Moto as he looked upon us with interest in our conversation.

"So which do you think you'll end up doing?" Yugi asked me.

I didn't know how to answer him. I didn't know_ what _to answer him. Either I put up with some girl for a month all for twenty bucks and a hamburger, or I confessed to Duke that I had lied. And I honestly wasn't sure which was worse.

"Yugi," Mr. Moto said suddenly, eying the booster packs I was shuffling in my hands, "did you take out and stock the new Duel Monsters packs from the storage room?"

An embarrassed Yugi widened his eyes. "Oh. Oh, _crap_. Uh – excuse me, Atem, I need to – uh – "

"Go ahead," I said as he scrambled back into the house, bumping into a few pieces of furniture from the sounds of it.

Mr. Moto smiled as his grandson's antics and took the chair he had recently occupied. "I'd do it myself, but these legs of mine can't climb ladders anymore like his can," he explained, easing into the leather seat. "And I couldn't ask you to do it. You're a guest, after all."

I smiled.

He paused suddenly, looking at me with interest. "Tell me, my boy…" he began, as if unsure how to continue, "has Yugi told you about…?"

"His sexual preference?" I finished, an easy and knowing smile settling on my face. "Yes, he has told me."

"I see. And also…"

"About me. Yes, I do know."

"Good Lord, I never thought he'd actually work up the courage to tell someone himself." Mr. Moto leaned back in the chair, and I neglected to mention that I had been the one to find out in the first place. "I love my grandson, Atem, but he is a rather shy fellow, and isn't too comfortable with opening himself up to others. Not anymore, anyway."

I frowned at this but ignored it nonetheless. "I see."

"You're a good friend for him to have," Mr. Moto told me kindly. "He likes himself better, now. Which I know is an odd thing to say, given that the two of you have known each other for barely a month, but the change is there. You're someone new to talk to, and he likes that."

"Me, too," I said. "He's someone… new, for me, too."

"Correct me if I am wrong, but you are not… the two of you are not…?"

"What?" My head raised to look at him. "Oh – no, we're not. I'm not… I mean, I don't – "

He smiled. "Just making sure. You know, a part of me is glad that you don't feel the same way. Yugi's eighteen, and he's a very able teenager, but I'm not sure if he knows he's ready for… anything."

"He's inexperienced."

"In so many words," he chuckled. "But yes. And forgive me if I'm wrong, but you seem like the type of person who's been a little too cavalier in your personal life." The look on my face made him smile. "Ah."

"I would never harm Yugi, Mr. Moto. Intentionally or otherwise," I told him seriously.

"I believe you, Atem," he said. "I do. You have a good soul, I can tell." He let out a sigh. "But things happen, whether we want them to or not, don't they? Broken hearts, shattered promises… they hurt, even if they were not meant to happen in the first place. Yugi trusts you, and I shall too, but know that underneath, all he is is a boy that is still learning how the world works, while you seem to have everything sorted out neatly for you. You're going off to Stanford, to a future, while he'll be staying here to take care of his aging grandfather and the game shop he's lived in all his life.

"I suppose I'm just a little worried that he'll grow up too soon for him to appreciate," Mr. Moto admitted sheepishly. "All I want is for him to be happy. And I'm not quite sure exposure to what you're so used to will help him with that."

He wasn't telling me to back off. He was telling me to be careful.

It was a familiar conversation I'd had with many fathers and mothers when I'd begun dating their daughters. I was used to phrases like "Don't break her heart or I'll break your face" and "I just don't want her too messed up with your lot," but for some reason, this one meant something else. Mr. Moto cared about Yugi, just as all the other parents had cared about Mia and Sara and whoever else I didn't care to remember – but this was… something different. I cared about Yugi, that was certain. And while a part of me wasn't sure quite how much I cared, I did know that his grandfather was right in worrying. I wasn't a good choice for a First Relationship. Even I knew that.

"Sorry, Grandpa," Yugi said as he came back into the shop, carrying with him a box filled with the latest Duel Monsters packs. "I guess it just slipped my mind, or something…"

"No worries," Mr. Moto replied with a smile, but his eyes met mine behind Yugi's back and I was suddenly caught with a flash of emotion that I wasn't sure how to interpret. He was right in worrying about Yugi with me. Yugi was the martyr of all martyrs, and I might as well have been the spawn of the devil himself.

Whatever this feeling was, I wasn't sure if I liked it. It felt diaphanously familiar, but it was still so new and unsettling that I wasn't quite sure how to interpret it. All I could tell was that it revolved around Yugi. And I wasn't all that certain if that was a good thing or not.

* * *

"The question is," Duke began, rattling his straw around in his drink, "have you had sex yet?"

My mind, which had thus far still been on Yugi, immediately went into a state of shock. Sex?_ Yugi? _The words didn't mix.

I suddenly got a sense of where I was – at Duke's place, with him, and Yugi was probably at the arcade or the game shop or anywhere else aside from here – and brought my mind back to reality. Duke was talking about the girl that didn't exist.

"No," I said.

He whistled. "Wow," he said, dragging the word out. "You _like _her."

"It's no big deal," I replied, not refuting this exactly; which Duke noticed, and he sent me a meaningful look with a single raised eyebrow.

"Have you given her The Speech?"

"No."

"No Speech, no sex," he said, summing up. "This is dangerous. Maybe she's different."

"Nobody's different," I told him. "I know that better than anyone."

And I did. It said something about my absolute adherence to a plan concerning relationships that Duke had terms, like outline headings, that detailed my actions. The Speech usually came right as the heady, romantic, fun-new-girlfriend phase was boiling to full steam. It was my way of hitting the brakes, slowly down-shifting, and usually involved pulling whatever Barbie was in my life at that time aside to say something like, "Hey, I really like you and we're having fun, but you know, I can't get too serious because I'm going to the beach/really going to focus on school come fall/just getting over someone and not up to anything long-term." That was the summer speech, anyway. The winter/holiday one was pretty much the same, except you inserted "I'm going skiing/really going to have to rally until graduation/dealing with a lot of family crap right now" for the last part.

And usually, girls took it one of two ways. If they really liked me, as in wear-my-class-ring-love-me-always, they bolted, which was just as well. If they liked me but were willing to slow down and see boundaries, they nodded and saved face by saying they felt the same way. And then I was free to proceed to the next step, which – and I'm not proud – usually involved sleeping with them.

But not right away. Never right away, not anymore.

Duke sucked on a few ice cubes. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just having fun," I replied, taking a swig of the tiny bottle of bourbon in my hand. It seemed easy to say this, having just run through it in my head. "She's, ah, leaving at the end of the summer too, so…"

"Then why haven't you given her The Speech?"

"I just," I said, then paused, stalling. "I haven't thought about it, to be honest."

He gave me another meaningful look, but I was being truthful. With Yugi, anyway. I knew at one point I'd have to pull him over and say, "Hey, you know, you're a nice guy and I really like hanging out with you, but I'm leaving come September and I kind of want to leave with as few ties as possible…" Or at least, something along those lines. But I didn't want to. Not yet.

"I still want to meet her," he said defiantly, swallowing the last of his drink. "You're not wiggling out of that."

"Right," I said a little breathlessly as my hand unconsciously came up to the key around my neck. "Of course."

* * *

I dropped my keys on the table by the door and bent down, picking up one balled-up piece of paper by my feet, uncrumpling it as I went into the kitchen. My mother was very superstitious about her work, and only wrote on the beat-up old typewriter she'd once dragged around the country when she did freelance music articles for a newspaper in San Francisco. It was loud, it had a clanging bell that sounded whenever she reached the end of a line, and it looked like some remnant from the days of the Pony Express. She had a brand-new top-of-the-line computer too, but she only used that to play solitaire.

The page in my hand had a "1" in the upper right-hand corner, and started with my mother's typical gusto.

_Shahenda had always been the type of woman who loved a challenge. In her career, her loves, her spirit, she lived to find herself up against something that fought her back, tested her resolve, made the winning worthwhile. As she walked into the Plaza Hotel on a cold November morning, she pulled the scarf from her hair and shook off the rain. Meeting John Howard hadn't been in her plans. She hadn't seen him since Prague, when they'd left things as bad as they'd started them. But now, a year later, with her wedding so close, he was back in the city. And she was there to meet him. This time, she would win. She was_

She was… what? There was only a smear of ink after the last word, trailing all the way down the page from where it had been ripped from the machine.

I continued picking up discarded papers as I walked, balling them into my hand. They didn't vary all that much. In one, the setting was in L.A., not New York, and in another John Howard became Howard Johns, only to be switched back again on page thirty-seven. Small details, but it always took a little while for my mother to hit her stride. Once she did, though, watch out. She'd finished her last book in three and a half weeks, and it was big enough to function effectively as a doorstop.

Her classical music was on again, and it along with the clanging of the typewriter both got louder as I walked into the kitchen, where Irma was hanging out at the island, reading something.

"Hey," I greeted briefly, and she nodded but didn't look up. Since she'd picked me up at Yugi's, our weird situation had gotten even weirder: she thought I was going back to the days of Big Bad Atem and felt justified and leaving me alone to do so, and I just wasn't comfortable with her in the room anymore if she was going to act like that.

I deposited the papers into the trash can under the sink and took a seat down at the counter, eying the red pen that Irma was using to mark up the sheets that sat in front of her. "What is that?"

"Pages fifty to two-hundred of her latest novel," she said, concentrating. "She just kind of pushed them on me, said 'Here honey, be a darling and edit for me will you?' before diving back into the lives of Sha-hoosey-whatsit and Howard Johns."

"I thought it was John Howard."

"She changed it."

"Again?"

Irma nodded, and I resisted the urge to sigh out of irritation. I wanted to make things all right between us again, at least so Irma wouldn't keep acting all bizarre when I walked through the door. If she was just going to start speaking to me as little as she could, my plan wouldn't work out all that well.

"Look," I began, leaning forward. "I'm sorry, all right?"

Her eyes raised to meet mine hesitantly before they narrowed slightly. "Sorry for what you did or sorry that you got caught?"

I blinked. "Got caught doing what?"

"You're lucky I haven't told Mom," she hissed, pointing a finger in my face. "You're lucky I don't spill secrets that I totally_ should_ spill because my younger brother is a complete _idiot _and I keep having to clean up his messes."

"Irma, I don't – "

"Have you been sleeping with Yugi?" she demanded.

Yugi. Sleeping. Sex. The words still didn't quite mix all that well.

_Not yet._

I silenced the portion of my brain that was talking and responded with a resounding, "_No._"

"Then why did you call me at one in the freaking morning to pick you up from his house?" she asked. "It was just like the old days, Atem, even you can't deny – "

"I was in trouble," I said quietly, "and he helped me out of it. I was at Marquee, and he was there… and then he took me back home. I just needed it, okay? Nothing happened."

"Like hell." Her eyes narrowed even further. "Something happened that you aren't telling me. Suddenly everyone's hanging out up in your room, acting like you've been best friends forever; something changed, Atem. Literally overnight."

"I just found out some things, okay?" I didn't want to go through this, even with Irma. "And it… had me thinking."

She blinked, halting her attacks on me for a moment to ask, "What sort of things?"

"Just things, all right? It isn't my place to say."

That got her off my back. If there was one thing Irma respected, it was loyalty. And it meant double points to her if she could compare it to me in the given situation. I think it made her feel accomplished, or something.

"Well…" She sighed, capping her pen. "Look, I don't know what's up with you. And I won't lie when I say I _really _hope you're not going back to the person you were in high school. I was scared, when I picked you up last week, that…"

"I know," I said quietly. "But Yugi and I… are not like that."

"Thank _God,_" she said, clearly relieved. "I was about to yell at you for corrupting Yugi, or something."

"'Corrupting Yugi'?"

"By being yourself. You're an asshole, Atem. I hope you know that." It wasn't said nastily, but more in a teasing sort of way that I'd been used to since forever. She grinned, and I managed a slight smile back; and for a moment, everything was all right. Everything was fine.

"Yugi and I are just friends," I insisted. "Really."

"Pity," she said, raising her eyebrows and opening the red pen up again. "It would've been cute."

I stared at her for a moment, about to question the word 'cute' and what exactly she was thinking about that would appreciate such a description, but was interrupted by my mother entering the kitchen from the sun room behind me.

"Let's have a party," she suggested, coming to lean on the island counter between my sister and me.

"A party for what?" Irma said around the pen cap that was wedged between her teeth.

"Anything," my mother said easily. "Everything. It can be your birthday party, Irma: that's in two days, so it'll work out. We should throw a barbecue. Invite all of your friends, okay? I want to meet everyone. Irma, dear, can you pick up some groceries tomorrow?"

She blinked. "Ah – sure, I guess…"

"Day after tomorrow," she said firmly. "We can do it. I'll send out the invitations, okay?" And with that, she scurried back to the sun room and clangs from her typewriter sounded within seconds.

My mother's whims were legendary. The house was filled with completely random things that had caught her interest at one point in time: stacks of Japanese cookbooks lined the pantry shelves, three acoustic guitars were collecting dust in her closet, and a large goldfish tank was still sitting in the living room with algae covering all four sides with one lone survivor – one fat, white fish that had eaten all the others.

It didn't surprise me that she'd decided she wanted to throw a party only two days before the Irma's birthday.

Irma sighed. "Perfect."

I looked over at her. "What?"

"No, nothing," she said. "It's just perfect. 'Happy birthday, Irma: plan my party, revise my book, go pick up my groceries…'"

"I'll do that," I offered, and she looked up at me.

"You're not kidding?"

"No. I'll do it. She just wants some groceries, right? How hard can it be?"

"She's got fairly picky tastes," Irma warned, raising an eyebrow. "But all right. At least that's off my chest."

I nodded.

"God, I just…" She ran a hand through her hair. "I love her and all, but – "

"She's just herself," I finished for her.

"Yeah." She slouched, letting out a breath of air. "She's our mother."

And maybe that was why I was leaving, in September. I loved my mother and I loved Irma in a family way – but not in a way where I'd want to live with them for the rest of my life. Not like I knew my mother had secretly hoped. But I was independent, and I needed to live my own life: I wanted to be able to go to Stanford and never look back. I wanted to leave with as little ties holding me back as possible. I couldn't take her. Or Irma.

Or Yugi.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself two seconds to get rid of that thought. One, two. There. I opened my eyes again. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm good," she said. "I've organized her parties before, you know. I know her pretty well."

"So do I, unfortunately," I responded, and this got the smile I was aiming for.

"You know," Irma began, quieter than before, "it's not because I hate you or anything."

"I know."

"It's because…" She hesitated, then shook her head. "It's because I care about you, of course. You're my brother and I love you and I don't want to see you grow too far apart because of that. So just… promise when you're a big megafamous billionaire, you'll take a break from rolling in your cash to come visit us here in lowly old Domino City?"

I smiled. "Promise. Though I've never been one for rolling in money."

"Only flaunting it."

"When?"

"No, you haven't ever, not that I can remember. You just seem like the type to."

It was so fast, the way we'd switched back into the easy give-and-take of insults that usually came with our usual conversations. It almost made me smile.

"But anyway, you should really start hanging out with your big sister a bit more," she said, reaching over to ruffle my hair (and I deliberately stepped back so she couldn't). She clicked her fingers, an idea clear on her face. "Or, you know what – bring Yugi and the gang. Yeah?"

"What?"

"Yugi. The gang. Your friends. The ones who've been crashing at our house for the past week and devouring my favorite chips. My boyfriend, the brunette girl, your bizarre best friend, the blonde kid, the two white-haired guys, and Yugi. Invite them all over to the party." She paused. "But if you're going to invite Joey, buy a few extra pizzas for that guy, or something. I've never seen anyone eat like he does. It's actually quite disturbing."

"Will do."

With nothing else to do, I left the kitchen shortly after that. As I marched up the stairs, however, my hand gliding on the railing next to me, and I was distracted by a sheet of paper that seemed to have been stuck to the polished banister. I looked to find a bright yellow sticky-note underneath my fingers: one of Mom's Post-Its for all her writing needs. Out of curiosity I unstuck it from the railing and skimmed over the words written in dark blue ink.

_Change the love focus. It happens all the time._

This somehow saddened me for reasons I could not understand; and after that brief moment, I shook my head, telling myself not to be ridiculous. It was a stupid little Post-It sticky. Why did I feel so weird about it?

And with that, I pocketed the note and headed upstairs to my room.

* * *

**References: **

"…_You seem like the type of person who's been a little too cavalier in your personal life."_  
– Inspired by the first 'National Treasure' movie. Basically, it means Atem gets around. Y'know?

"'_Meeting John Howard hadn't been in her plans…'"_  
– I'm not expecting every US Office fan to get that reference, but it's nice if you made the connection. Apparently, B. J. Novak (Ryan Howard) and John Krasinski (James "Jim" Halpert) were friends in high school or something, and since I like 'Howard' and Jim kind of completes my life, I threw the two names together.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue me. I'm a good girl, I am. Washed m' face an' 'ands b'fore I wrote this, I did.

**A/N:** You bet I love angst. (Stuff finally happens! Woot!)

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

"I thought this was a cookout. You know, dogs and burgers, Tater Tots, ambrosia salad." Joey picked up a bag of Twinkies, tossing them into the cart. "And Twinkies."

"It is," I said, consulting the list again before I picked up a four-dollar glass jar of imported sun-dried tomatoes off the shelf. "Except that it's a cookout thrown by my mother."

"And?"

"And," I said, "my mother doesn't cook."

Joey and Yugi both looked at me, waiting.

"At all. My mother doesn't cook at all."

"She must cook sometimes," Yugi said.

"Nope."

"Everybody can make scrambled eggs, Atem. It's programmed into you at birth, like the default setting," Joey explained. "Like being able to swim and knowing not to mix pickles with oatmeal. You just _know_."

"My mother," I told them, pushing the cart farther up the aisle as they lagged along beside, "doesn't even like scrambled eggs. She only eats eggs Benedict."

"Which is?" Joey said, stopping as he was momentarily distracted by a large plastic water gun that was displayed, right at kid's eye level, in the middle of the cereal section.

"You don't know what eggs Benedict is?" I asked him.

"Should I?" he asked, picking up the water gun and pulling the trigger, which made a click-click-click sound. He pointed it around the corner, like a sniper, taking shelter behind a display of canned corn.

"It's a way of making eggs that is really complicated and fancy that involves hollandaise sauce," Yugi told him. "And English muffins."

"Ugh." The blonde made a face, then shuddered. "I _hate_ English muffins."

"What?"

"English muffins." He put the water gun back as we started walking again. "I can't stand them. I can't even think about them. In fact, we should stop talking about them right now."

We paused in front of the spices: my mother wanted something called Asian Fish Sauce. I peered closely at all the bottles, already frustrated, while Joey busied himself juggling some boxes of Sweet 'n Low as Yugi watched him, torn between amusement and bafflement.

Shopping with Joey Wheeler, I had discovered, was like having a toddler in tow. He was constantly distracted, grabbing at things, and we'd already taken on entirely too many impulse items, all of which I intended to rid the cart of at the checkout when he wasn't looking. When I'd entered the grocery store at the strip mall that morning, ready to take on my mother's shopping list alone, I hadn't expected the trouble that would come when camera-store employee Joey offered to come help, bringing along a shrugging Yugi.

"Do you mean to tell me," I said, reaching up as I spotted the fish sauce, "that you can eat an entire jar of mayonnaise in one sitting" – And I wasn't kidding on this: I'd actually seen him do it – "but find English muffins, which are basically just bread, to be disgusting?"

"Ughhh." He shuddered again, a full-bodied one this time as he put a hand on his stomach. "Icks-nay on the uffins-may. I'm serious."

It was taking us forever. My mother's list only consisted of about ten or fifteen items, but they were all specially items: imported goat cheese, focaccia bread, an incredibly specified brand of olives in the red bottle, not the green. Plus there was the new grill she'd bought just for the occasion – the nicest one at the specialty hardware store, according to Irma, who didn't keep her from overspending as I would have – plus the brand-new patio furniture (otherwise, where would we sit?), and my mother was spending a small fortune on what was supposed to be a simple party for Irma.

She'd been working away at her book ever since coming back from that vacation in Florida last month, but midday yesterday her inspiration struck: a real, family-centered cookout for Irma with the family and friends. She hadn't been kidding when she said she'd send out the invitations: she'd only neglected to mention that I'd be making them. She wanted Irma and Tristan to come, and her agent's secretary, Molly, who was single, poor thing, and wouldn't it be wonderful if she hit it off with our decorator, Jorge, who we just had to have over to thank for all his hard work on the addition to the house last month? And wouldn't it be such a great way for everyone to meet my new friends (insert me cringing here) and christen the new patio and our wonderful, amazing, beautiful lives together as a blended family?

Oh, yes. It would. Of course.

"What?" Yugi said to me now, stepping in front of the cart, which I'd been pushing, apparently, faster and faster as these stress thoughts filled my head. It knocked him in the gut, forcing him backward, and he put his hands on it, pushing it back to me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, trying to get the cart going again, but no such luck: he wasn't budging. "Why?"

"You just got this look on your face, like your brain was caving in."

Nice. "Thank you?"

"And," he continued, "you're biting your lip. You only do that when you're about to shift into super-obsessive, what-if mode."

I just looked at him. As if I was that easy to figure out, a puzzle that could be cracked in, how long had it been, two weeks? I should have been insulted.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to ignore Joey, who had until that point been examining a huge display of Velveeta cheese in the dairy section. He turned around now, examining our conversation.

"Ah! The I'm-too-cool-for-this voice," Joey said, grinning. "Which means, of course, that Yugi is right."

I started pushing the cart again, but the two caught up, both smiling.

"What if I embarrass you?" Joey said, as if posing a theory, like, say, quantum physics. "What if I break some heirloom family china? Or start blabbing about your love life?"

I didn't mention that he knew little to none about my love life; that didn't mean he couldn't make anything up. I pushed the cart harder, but he hung on tight to the side with Yugi, still grinning. "What if I throw down a challenge to your mother, right there over dinner, daring her to eat that entire jar of sun-dried tomatoes and chase it with a stick of margarine? And what if" – and he gasped here, dramatically – "Oh my God, she actually _does_ it?"

Yugi started laughing, so I covered my face with a hand, shaking my head. Yugi's laugh was contagious; and I hated it when someone could make me laugh when I didn't want to.

"But you know," Joey said thoughtfully, "that probably won't happen."

"We're leaving," I told them, and started pushing the cart toward the checkout aisles. As Joey chuckled and went to inspect the candy next to the cashier, Yugi came up next to me. "Seriously, though. Are you all right?"

And maybe it was then that it hit me. I'd already known that Yugi wasn't normal – hell, anybody could tell – but there was a difference between not being normal compared to the rest of the world, and not being normal compared to the rest of the world through _my_ eyes.

It was clear already that Yugi liked me. Possibly more than that. The way he acted, how sometimes he'd leave hand on mine longer than necessary, little things like that – and I hadn't let it bother me because I figured, eventually, he'd have to let it go. It was just a crush. It'd wear off.

So I'd let things slide that I realized now I probably shouldn't have. I let him make me laugh, I let him stay close when everybody hung out in my room, I let his hand linger on mine when we were inspecting Duel Monsters cards at the game shop – and for a while, maybe I could've continued fooling myself that it was just a very close friendship, nothing to be worried about; but I of all people knew that reality had to come back hitting you eventually. And the longer you ignored it, the harder it hit.

_I'm going off to Stanford in September,_ I told myself firmly. _That's in freaking California, for God's sake, miles of ocean and distance and time away. If things continue going on like this – _

No, I couldn't think like that. Things couldn't continue going on like this because they _wouldn't_. I was already in way too deep, in over my head. I was already feeling things I shouldn't feel, recognizing emotions that shouldn't be there for me to recognize.

And maybe that was why Yugi was so different, and still somehow exactly the same, to everyone I'd dated before. He wasn't a girl. He was a young, independent male: not some easy bottle-blonde girl I could've snagged at Marquee any day of the week. These were emotions I was used to feeling, just… not for men. Never for a man, not until now.

And that scared me. As much as I would never admit it, not to anyone – it terrified me.

"I'm fine," I said, a little colder than necessary, but I told myself it couldn't be helped. _I'll set him straight later. Not now, not in public. Later._

He raised his eyebrows at my tone of voice but otherwise accepted my answer, then turning to Joey and made sure he followed as the three of us headed, groceries in tow, outside to greet summer.

* * *

"So, Atem. I hear you're going to Stanford!"

I nodded and smiled, shifting my drink to my other hand, and felt with my tongue to see if I had spinach in my teeth. I didn't. But my mother's agent's secretary, Molly or Holly or something along those lines, who I hadn't seen since Irma's last birthday party, was standing in front of me expectantly, with a nice big piece wedged around an incisor.

"Well," she said, dabbing her forehead with a napkin, "it's just a wonderful school. You must really be excited."

"I am," I told her. Then I reached up, nonchalantly, and brushed at one of my teeth, hoping she would somehow subconsciously pick up on this, like osmosis or something, and get the hint. But no: she was still smiling at me, fresh sweat beading down her forehead, as she gulped down the rest of her wine and glanced around, wondering what to say next.

We were distracted by a small commotion over by the brand-new grill, where Tristan and Joey had offered to prepare the incredibly expensive steaks my mother had special-ordered from the butcher. They were, I'd heard her tell someone, "Brazilian beef," or whatever that meant, as if cows from below the equator were of greater value than your average chewing cud.

They weren't doing too well. First they'd managed to burn off a portion of Tristan's eyebrow (I could see Irma giggling with Téa behind him) as well as a fair amount of Joey's arm hair while lighting the grill. Then they'd had some trouble mastering the complicated spatula in the top-of-the-line accessories set the salesman had convinced my mother she absolutely had to have, resulting in one of the steaks being flung across the patio, where it landed with a slap on one of the imported loafers of our decorator, Jorge.

Now the flames on the grill were leaping as Tristan struggled with the gas valve and Joey whacked the thing with a spatula. Duke was holding down snorts in the background with Ryou and Bakura, the latter of which was clearly amused at the bonfire show and the other sending worried expressions to his friends. All of us assembled stood there, holding our drinks as the fire shot up, making the steaks scream and sizzle, then died out completely as the grill made a gurgling noise. My mother, deep in conversation with one of our neighbors, glanced over in a disinterested way, as if this spontaneous burning and destruction of the main course was someone else's problem.

"Don't worry!" Tristan called as the flames shot up again and Joey battered at them with the spatula. "It's under control." He sounded about as sure of this as he looked, which was to say, with half a right eyebrow and the smell of singed hair still lingering, not very.

"Everyone, please," my mother called out, covering gamely by gesturing at the table where we'd set up all the cheeses and appetizers. "Eat, eat! We've got so much food here."

Tristan was waving smoke out of his face while Irma and Téa stood off to his right, biting their lips. Téa had brought in several side dishes, all in plastic containers with matching, pastel-colored lids. On the bottom of each lid, in permanent marker, was written 'Property of Téa A. Gardener, please return.' As if the whole world was part of an international conspiracy to steal her Tupperware.

"Ingrid," the secretary next to me – Molly or Holly, I still couldn't remember – called out, "this is just wonderful."

"Oh, it's nothing!" my mother said, fanning her face with her hand. She was in black pants and a lime green tank top that showed off her Florida tan, her hair pulled back in a head-band: she looked the picture of suburban entertaining, as if at any moment she might light a tiki torch and spray some Cheez Whiz onto crackers. "Atem, honey?" she called out to me. "Can you come here a second?"

I made my excuses to Molly/Holly and walked across the backyard, where my mother slid her hand around my wrist, pulling me gently closer to her, and whispered, "I'm wondering if I should be worried about the steaks."

I glanced over at the grill, where Joey had given up, leaning against the fence lining our backyard with a soda. Tristan was still at it, however, having positioned himself in such a way that it was difficult – but not impossible – to see the prime Brazilian beef cuts had been reduced to small, black objects resembling lava rocks.

"Yes and no," I told her, then put my drink aside. "I'll deal with it."

"Oh, Atem," she said, sighing. "What am I going to do without you?"

Ever since high school had ended it had been like this, these sudden moments when her face changed and I knew she was thinking I might actually go to Stanford after all; that it was really about to happen. She had her new wing, her new book, her new grill with Brazilian beef – she'd be fine without me and we both knew it. This is what sons did. They left, and came home later with lives of their own. It was a basic plot in any number of her books: main character strikes out, makes good, finds love, gets revenge; in that order. The making good and striking out part I liked. The rest was just a bonus.

"Come on, Mom," I said, "you won't even know I'm gone."

She sighed, shaking her head, and pulled me close to kiss my cheek. I had a flash, suddenly, of her pressing her lips to my forehead when I was a child, and me noticing how warm her lips had been then, too. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking it in. With all the changes, it was nice that some things still stayed the same.

Which is exactly what I was thinking as I stood in the kitchen, pulling out the hamburgers I'd brought out of the back of the refrigerator, where I'd camouflaged them behind a stack of Irma's favorite soda. At the supermarket, when Yugi had asked me why I was buying this stuff even though it wasn't on the list, I'd just told him that I liked to be prepared for any eventuality, because you just never knew. Could be that I was too cynical. Or maybe, unlike so may others who moved in my mother's orbit, I had just learned from the past.

"Okay, so it is true." I turned around to see Téa Gardner standing behind me. In one hand, she had two packs of hot dogs: in the other, a bag of buns. She half-smiled, as if we'd both been caught doing something, and said, "Great minds think alike, yeah?"

"I am impressed," I told her as she came over and opened one of the packs, arranging the dogs on a plate. "You saw it coming too, then?"

"No, but I do know Tristan and Joey," she said, rolling her eyes. "Irma was talking about this new grill of yours the day after you brought it home from the store. Those two were just bedazzled. As soon as Irma started about convection, they were gone."

"Convection?"

She shrugged, pushing hair out of her face. "Irma said it had something to do with the heating process," she explained. "Instead of just the heat rising up, it surrounds the food. That's what got those two in. Irma just kept saying it, like a mantra. It _surrounds_ the food. It _surrounds_ the food."

I snorted, and she glanced over at me, then smiled almost tentatively, as if she had to check first to make sure I wasn't making fun of her. Then we just stood there, both of us stacking meat products for a second, until I decided we were on the verge of a Hallmark moment and had to take action.

"So," I said, "do you know where Yugi is?"

"I don't, actually," she said thoughtfully. "He did tell you he was coming, didn't he?" At my nod, she frowned. "That's odd. He's never been late for much. School, on occasion, but never for get-togethers with his friends."

I didn't respond.

"I'm sure he'll show," she said, shrugging. "Like I said, it's not like him to bail out on his friends. He'll be fine. If he said he's coming, then he's coming."

"Right," I said. "Yeah. Of course."

We were halfway out the door with the burgers and hot dogs when I happened to glance out the window into the front yard, catching a glimpse of something I wasn't too happy with seeing.

"Could you take this?" I asked Téa, handing over my plate of patties.

"Sure," she said. "See you outside."

As I came down the driveway, the screen door slamming behind me, Yugi was walking up the sidewalk, a good half hour late. He was rubbing his eye, disregarding the blood, and somehow managed to smile as I came up to him. "Hey," he said.

"What the hell happened?" I hissed.

He looked a bit alarmed, as if I wasn't supposed to be angry. But I had a damn good right to be, didn't I? "It's – "

"If you say it's nothing, Yugi, I might just hit you myself," I told him, though even to my ears I had to admit that was a little harsh. After all, he'd done what I'd asked: he'd went and gotten himself beaten up again, but at least he'd come to my place. At least he'd kept his promise.

But he shouldn't have been put in a situation where he had to keep it in the first place.

"I took another shortcut," he said, avoiding my eye contact. "Look, I'm sorry I'm late, I just – "

"It's not about you being late," I told him, trying to calm myself down. "Here." I led him inside, back up to the spare bedroom, while minding the long cut on his arm. I tried not to seethe. I tried not to shout and dash back out there to find the person – persons? – responsible. But it wasn't working.

"Sit down," I told him, and went to grab the medicine that had worked last time. As I came back, he watched me silently as I dabbed the balm on the cuts around his eyes, arms, and the few on his chest. I ignored the familiar, inviting feeling of his skin against mine.

"Was it Ushio?" I asked him, forcing myself to remain inside the house and not go charging outside to eat the brute's kidney.

"I don't know," he admitted, sighing, and in that moment I realized how tired he seemed. Drained. As if he'd given up already. "They all look the same, now. They just… did what they did, and were off."

I bit down a few choice words, most of them four-lettered ones describing the emotions running through my brain at this given statement. "Mmm."

"Atem? Are you… okay?"

"Fantastic."

"What's wrong?"

"Everything's wrong," I snapped, tossing the medicine aside on the bed and resisting the urge to throw up my hands and let the universe sort itself out before I stepped back in when everything made sense again. "You're wrong, this is wrong, Ushio's wrong, Stanford's – !" I stopped myself here, rubbing my hands over my face. I gave myself five seconds to pull myself together before dropping my hands and looking up at Yugi once more, who was watching me with confused, concerned eyes. "I can't just sit here and do nothing, all right? Either you make it stop or I will. All right?"

"All right," he said quietly, and I calmed myself down enough to notice how hesitant he was being, as if I might snap his neck at any moment.

"…I'll be back with some ointment for that eye," I muttered, getting up and moving over toward the door. But his voice stopped me before I even reached the hallway.

"Duke told me, you know."

I turned around. "Duke told you what?" I said.

"About you going to Stanford."

"_I_ told you that. Back at the arcade."

"Yes, but he told me about how you want to leave," Yugi said quietly from behind me. "With no strings attached. You want a new life for yourself. You don't want any messy relationships to leave behind. Not even if they're just friendly ones."

I reached up and brushed some bangs behind my ear, not letting myself turn around just yet.

"It's nice to know where I stand, I guess," he said. "Summer friend, and all. Set ending. No worries. A bit surprising, I have to admit, but maybe I should just admire your honesty."

"Yugi," I said.

"No, it's okay. I like knowing that you don't see us going anywhere. Takes the guesswork out of it."

I turned around now and looked at him. "What did you expect? That we'd stay, either like this or something more, together forever?"

"Are those the only options? Nothing or forever?" He lowered his voice. "God, Atem. Is that what you really believe?"

_Maybe_, I thought. _Maybe it is._

"Look," I told him. "Honesty is good. I'm going away to college, and you'll… be here. And we probably won't ever see each other again."

He looked surprised at this, and for a second I realized he didn't know me. Not at all.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked, standing up slowly. "Is it that bad that you might actually like me?"

"I'm not afraid," I told him, but the lie sounded obvious, even to me. "That's not it. It's just simpler this way."

"So you're saying we should just decide now that this summer doesn't mean anything? Just use each other and then when you go it's over, see you later?"

It sounded so bad when he said it that way. "I have worked all my life to get out of here scot-free," I said. "I can't take anything else with me."

"This doesn't have to be a burden. Why do you want to make it one?"

"Because I know how things end, Yugi." I lowered my voice. "I've seen what commitment leads to, and it isn't pretty. Going in is the easy part. It's the endings that suck."

"Atem – "

"Look, this is just how it has to be." I shook my head. "I'm sorry."

For a minute neither of us said anything. After so many years of only thinking these things, saying them out loud felt so strange, as if now they were officially real. My cold, hard heart out in the open, finally exposed, for what it truly was. _Fair warning,_ I thought, almost bitterly. _I should have told you from the beginning. I will let you down._

"I know why you're saying this," he said finally, "but you're really missing out. You know, when it works, love is pretty amazing. It's not overrated. There's a reason for all the songs."

I looked down at my hands. "They're just songs, Yugi. They don't mean anything."

He walked over, still wincing a bit, and stood right in front of me, taking my hands in his. "You know," he said, rubbing my thumb with his, "it could have gone either way with us. All those marriages and everything. Another day, you'd be the one who believed, and I'd be the one sending you away."

I felt it then. That strange settling feeling that meant the worst part was over, and now there were only a few pleasantries to exchange before you were done for good. It was the finishing line coming up over the hill, and knowing that what lies ahead is all within your sight.

"Maybe," I replied. But I couldn't even imagine believing in love the way he did. Not with the history I had. You had to be crazy to come out of it and think forever was still possible.

He leaned forward, still holding my hand, and pressed his lips to mine. It was bitter, and nearly made me step back out of surprise, but I knew I had to at least try to enjoy it, because it probably wouldn't – it _definitely_ wouldn't – ever happen again. I closed my eyes, pressing my toes into the carpet. I took in everything about him that I'd grown to like: the smell of him, the narrowness of his hips, the smoothness of his skin against mine. So much in so little time.

"I'll see you around," he said, pulling back from me. "Okay?"

I nodded.

He squeezed my hand one last time, then let it drop and passed me and went into the hallway. It was a few minutes before I went over to the window in the guest bedroom, looking down at the lawn in time to see Yugi down below me, padding across the grass. His feet left fresh tracks: the ones from earlier were gone, already absorbed, as if nothing had happened up to here.

I went downstairs and told everyone that Yugi had just called, said he hadn't been feeling well, and hopes that they were all having a good time. Everyone looked worried – except for Bakura, who I didn't give a damn about, anyway – but accepted this nonetheless. Joey offered to go over to Yugi's and make sure he was okay, Tristan saying he'd come along too, but I told them no: Yugi was fine, it was just a small bug. He'd be fine within a day.

And so would I.

Téa eyed me worriedly but said nothing, and I excused myself from the party once more, telling Irma to distract my mother so that she didn't notice I was not there. My sister only nodded, used to this sort of thing after eighteen years.

Once inside again I went up to the bedroom and crawled underneath the sheets. I knew this feeling, the weird kind of loneliness that I'd learned that just came with life, whether you wanted it to or not. It was always worse right before a breakup.

I shook my head. It wasn't a breakup. We were never together.

And it wouldn't have worked out, anyway.

I kept thinking about how he'd kissed me as we said good-bye. It had to be the nice breakup ever. Not that it made it any easier. But still.

I rolled over, and pulled the pillow tight under my head, closing my eyes. I could feel the key, beneath my shirt, always so close to my chest but never serving any real purpose aside from a sense of familiarity. Stability. It pressed into me, the lines making clear indentations in my skin, as I tried to mentally distract myself with music: the classical music that my mother liked, or the boppy songs Irma enjoyed that played on the radio with la-la-la choruses. But Yugi's voice kept coming back, slipping easily over everything.

I had to forget about him and move on. I had to find a nice girl to date, not a man, because… well, I wasn't… I just _wasn't_.

_The love focus changes,_ I told myself bitterly. _It's completely normal._

And it happened all the time.

* * *

**References:**

"_What if I throw down a challenge to your mother, right there over dinner, daring her to eat that entire jar of sun-dried tomatoes and chase it with a stick of margarine?"  
_– For those of you who have read 'Rebel Angels,' this was a reference to the last chapter, when Joey and Yugi (along with Atem, technically) play the How Many States Can You Name While That Woman Picks Up Her Dry Cleaning? game. You might see more of these challenges later on, if I feel like tossing them in. We'll see.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue me. I'm a good girl, I am. Washed m' face an' 'ands b'fore I wrote this, I did.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

I cleaned. Everything. I detailed my car, Armor All-ing every inch of it, and had my oil changed. I washed the interior, realphabetized my CDs, and, yes, cleaned the windows and windshield from the inside. This inspired me so much that I tackled my room, stuffing four garbage bags with my closet discards for the thrift shop before hitting the clearance rack at the mall to stock up on new, college-me clothes. I was so industrious I shocked myself.

How had I gotten so disorganized? Once, keeping the vacuum cleaner lines even on my bedroom carpet was second nature. Now, struck with this sudden fervor, I found mud tracks in my closet, a spilled soda near my desk, one mismatched shoe – _one_ – stuffed beneath my bed. It made me wonder if I'd been in some sort of fugue state. Restoring order to my personal universe suddenly seemed imperative.

I tried keeping my mind of Yugi. Everything would be fine, I told myself. I'd set him straight, he'd understood, I'd be going off to Stanford in a few weeks. Everything would be great.

And besides, it wasn't as if things would be all weird and uncomfortable between us now, or anything. The morning after Irma's party, in fact, I'd been standing in line at the coffee place near Chatham for Dr. Baker's morning mocha when he walked in, crossed the room, and came right up to me.

"So I'm thinking," he said, no hello or hi or anything, "that we need to be friends."

Instantly, my alarms went off, reminding me of the logic I'd been preaching for almost as long as I could remember. Not possible. Besides, hadn't we tried that already? "Friends?"

"Friends," he repeated. "Because it would be a shame if we did the whole awkward, ignoring-each-other, pretending-nothing-ever-happened thing. In fact, we could just jump right in and deal with it now."

I looked at the clock next to the espresso machine. It was 9:05. "Isn't it a little early to take that on?"

"See, that's the point," he said. "Last night we decided it would never work out, right?"

"Yes," I said, in a quieter voice than he was using, hoping he would get the hint. No such luck.

"And today, here we are. Meeting up, as we are bound to do endless other times between now and when the summer ends."

"Agreed," I said as I finally got to the front of the line. I nodded as the guy behind the counter asked if I wanted Desirae's usual.

"So," he went on, "I say that we just admit that things may be a little strange, but that we won't avoid each other or allow things to be awkward at all. If anything feels weird, we acknowledge it straight up and move on. What do you think?"

"I think," I said, "that won't work out."

"Why not?"

"Because you can never go from being close to being friends, just like that," I explained, grabbing some napkins out of the dispenser. "It's a lie. It's just something people say they'll do to take the permanence out of a breakup, or… whatever happened last night. And someone always takes it to mean more than it does, and then is hurt even more when, inevitably, said 'friendly' relationship is still a major step down from the previous relationship, and it's like breaking up all over again. But messier."

He considered this, then said, "Okay, point taken. And in this scenario of yours, since I'm the one pursuing the idea of a less friendly friendship, so to say, then it would be me who would get hurt again. Correct?

"Hard to say," I said, taking Desirae's coffee and mouthing a thanks to the counter guy as I stuffed a dollar bill into the tip jar. "But if this followed the formula, yes."

"Then I," he said, "will prove you wrong."

"Yugi," I said softly as we walked to the door, "come on." It seemed surreal to be discussing the previous night in such analytical terms, as if it had happened to someone else and we were just off to the side, doing the play-by-play.

"Look, this is important to me," he said as we walked outside. "I hate bad endings. I hate awkwardness and those weird stilled conversations and the feeling like I can't go somewhere because you're there, or whatever. For once I'd just like to skip all that and agree to part as friends. And mean it."

I looked at him. Last night, as we'd stood in my house, I'd dreaded this, seeing him again. And I had to admit I kind of liked that it was pretty much over with, the first awkward Sighting. Check it off the list, move on. Break up efficiently. What a concept.

"I don't know if I can try that again," I said slowly, and he sighed, looking away. "But," I added, "you're right. We can't just leave things like we did last night."

He looked back at me. "What are you saying?"

"That I'm not sure if I can afford to be friends," I mused aloud, "but I don't want to necessarily avoid you, either."

"Neither do I."

"Then we won't," I told him. "But I do have a lot of things going on right now that I'm not sure…"

"Of course," he said, "I just wanted to, y'know, make sure there were no hard feelings. Clear the air. Make peace."

"Peace?" I asked him. "Were we at war?"

He shrugged at this, and I smiled. "I've got to get back to Chatham's," I told him, heading off. "See you later, Yugi."

That had been a week or so ago. I'd seen him a few times since then, at Burger World or the arcade, and while things hadn't been weird or anything, there was still enough distance between the two of us to make a difference. And as far as I could tell, we'd been the only ones to notice or care.

But this was better, totally. Of course it was. I was alone again, and I would get over it. Sure, it sucked to be by yourself sometimes, but I'd long ago realized I preferred it to depending on anyone else to get me where I needed to go. That was the thing about being alone, in theory or in principle. Whatever happened – good, bad, or anywhere in between – it was always, if nothing else, all on your own.

There was only one thing I needed. And I knew enough to keep it close at all times.

Outside, the morning air was crisp and cool as a breeze flew through the wind. I walked over to my car, putting the keys in the ignition and driving off to Chatham's as one hand unconsciously came to the key around my neck. The truth was, I'd lately been thinking about taking it off. It seemed kind of ridiculous to be carrying around a key to a house that was no longer mine. And anyway, it wasn't like I could, even if I wanted to. More than once, I'd even gone so far as to reach up to undo the clasp before stopping myself.

One night at Yugi's when I had been hanging out with him in the game shop, he'd noticed it peeking out from under my shirt. "What's it to?" he'd asked me, and I'd told him, "Nothing." In truth, though, then and now, the key wasn't just to that lock at the yellow house. It seemed as if it was to me, and the life I lived before; the life I was tired of living, but just couldn't seem to give up, no matter how hard I tried. Maybe I'd even begun to forget it a bit over the last few weeks, and this was why it was easier to imagine myself without it. But now, after what had happened at Irma's party, I was thinking maybe having a reminder wasn't such a bad idea. I wasn't ready to completely leave the old Atem behind, no matter how much I hated him; and at the moment, I didn't really know what I needed to do to be ready to move on. So for now, it would stay where it was.

* * *

"Atem, really, she's just wonderful."

"Dr. Baker, please."

"I know what you're thinking. I do. But this is different. I wouldn't do that to you. Do you trust me?"

I put down the stack of checks I'd been counting and looked up at her. She was looking down at me from the counter, grinning.

"I don't do blind dates," I told her.

"It isn't blind, honey, I know her," she explained, as if this made some kind of difference. "A nice girl. A bit of a temper, maybe, but then, it'll match yours nicely."

"Not to be rude, but I really don't…"

"But she really is good for you. Perfect."

_Nobody,_ I thought,_ is perfect. _"No, thank you."

"I don't understand you, kid," she said, shaking her head.

"I don't do blind dates," I repeated.

"Doesn't matter." Desirae, the manager, walked out of her office and tossed a manila folder on the counter for me. "I'm going to catch up with her mother over dinner tonight at six, and told her to go ahead and drop the girl off here so you two could meet up. You're welcome."

"I – what?"

"You need a girl, hon." Dr. Baker winked at me. "And today is your lucky day, because we happen to have found one for you."

"Is this the girl you tried to set me up with last year?" I asked wearily. "The bilingual one from Brazil?"

"They'll be here in an hour," Desirae went on, completely ignoring me. "I have some scissors in the back if you want me to trim that hair of yours. Lord knows the last time you cut it."

"What in the world," I said slowly, trying to sound as polite as I could, "makes you think I'll go through with this? Because she's good-looking?"

"Because you should," Dr. Baker added.

"Because," Desirae said, leaning on the counter, closer to me, "you can."

* * *

I wandered out into the parking lot at five-thirty, ready to greet this girl and get everything over with. Desirae had given me a gift certificate to her favorite restaurant, and I'd accepted it just to make her happy. The sun was bright in my eyes as I closed the door behind me at Chatham's, leaning against the bench and waiting for this girl and her mother to show.

A car pulled up, parking in one of the slots near the camera place. As I watched, the guy in the passenger seat leaned down and pushed on the door handle, and it swung open, but for some reason he forgot to let go and was taken with it, quickly dropping out of sight, the door left ajar.

The driver glanced over at the empty seat, sighed, and got out of the car, closing the door behind him. It was Tristan. "Are you hurt?"

I couldn't hear the reply, but I was distracted anyway by Duke climbing clumsily into the front seat of the car, tripping over the gearshift before tumbling into the driver's seat and then out the door, dropping to the pavement a bit more gracefully than his companion but not by much. He stumbled slightly as he rounded the front of the car, reaching out a hand to touch the bumper for support. He was weaving, and seemed rather… drunk.

"Okay, guys," Tristan announced as Duke ambled up, "I said I'd get you here and I did. But I've got a date with Irma, so I really should get going – "

"My good man," I heard a new voice say from the ground that sounded a lot like Joey Wheeler's, "you have done your duty."

"Are you going to get up or what?" Tristan asked.

Joey got to his feet. He was in his work clothes but they looked entirely wrinkled, as if someone had balled him up in a pocket for a couple of hours. His shirt was hanging out, his pants totally creased, and he had a disposable camera sticking out of his pants pocket. There was a scratch on his cheek that looked fresh, probably the result of the tumble from the car. He reached up to touch it, as if surprised to find it there, and let his hand drop.

"My good man," Duke said, flopping his arm around Tristan, "we owe you the greatest of favors."

"My good man," Joey echoed, "we will repay you with gold, and maidens, and our eternal allegiance to your cause. Huffah!"

"Huffah!" Duke repeated, raising a fist.

"Cut it out, you two," Tristan said tiredly, shaking Duke's arm off. "I've really gotta go, so if you two think you can stay out of trouble here, I guess – "

"As you wish, comrade," Joey told him. "Raise a glass and huffah!"

"Huffah!" Duke said again.

"Okay, I'm gone," Tristan said, starting to climb back into the car. "You two can huffah all you want – "

"Huffah!" they called in unison.

"Atem!" The relief in Tristan's voice and expression reached me from across the parking lot. "Hey, man, what's up?"

"I… nothing," I said, shrugging. I came closer, eying Duke and Joey, who stumbled their way over to the sidewalk. "Are they all right?"

"Drunk," Tristan explained when I'd reached them. "Duke took him back to his place after things went kinda badly with Mai at Marquee, and apparently he has some sort of secret liquor stash in his basement, and – look, I know they can be idiots, especially Joey, but…"

"I'll look after them," I said. "I'm leaving in a few minutes, but I'll make sure they don't kneel over dead while I'm here, or something."

"Thanks," he said gratefully, then climbed into his car. "I owe you one, man." He drove off, leaving Joey and Duke in front of the camera store, whey they commenced taking pictures of each other posing by the newspaper racks.

"Okay, now give me some pout," Duke was saying to Joey, who struck a model's pose, sticking out his chest and using a stack of coupon fliers as a prop, fanning them in front of his face and peeking over them seductively. "There, that's good. Great!" The camera flashed, and Duke wound the film, grinning. "Okay, now do somber. That's right. You're serious. You're hurt…"

Joey looked out at the road, suddenly mournful, contemplating the Burger World, which was across the street, with a wistful expression.

"Perfect," Duke said, and they both burst out laughing. They didn't seem to notice me as I walked up.

Joey had struck his best pose yet, draping himself across the phone booth and fluttering his eyelashes, when Duke popped the last flash and ran out of film. "Damn," he muttered, shaking the camera as if that would suddenly make more pictures appear. As Joey sat down on the curb, Duke finally looked my way. "Oh. Hey, Atem. What're you doing here?"

"Waiting for someone," I replied.

"Ooh, you look snazzy," he noticed. "Got a hot date?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but Joey cut me off.

"Truth be told, my good man," he said solemnly, "I am somber. And serious. And hurt."

"My good man," Duke told him, sitting beside him and leaning back on his palms while stretching his feet out, "I understand."

"The woman I love will not have me." Joey squinted up at the sky. "She thinks I am not husband material, and, in her words, a bit immature. And today, in defiance of this proclamation, I quit my very easy job in which I made nine bucks an hour doing not very much at all."

I raised my eyebrows at this. Joey liked to say that he alphabetized his photos at the camera place very, very well – though according to Mai, that wasn't as true as it could have been. He kept getting distracted, she'd told me, and would put the R's in the B's or would sort them by first name, not last. From the sound of it, if it were up to me, I'd only let him sharpen pencils; and only then under supervision.

"There are other jobs, my squire," Duke said.

"The fair Mai," Joey went on, "did not see me as a worthwhile risk."

They seemed to have forgotten I was there, which I was very thankful for. I looked away at this last comment.

"Indeed," Duke said.

"I am, of course, a rogue. A rapscallion. I would bring her nothing but poverty, shame, and bruised shins from my flailing limbs. She is better for the parting."

"Cold words, my squire."

"Huffah," Joey agreed.

"Huffah," Duke repeated, "indeed."

Then they just sat there, saying nothing for a moment. I felt like I should say something, get them less depressed before they both did something stupid – but they were drunk, and Joey needed this, if nothing else. Sometimes it hurt less if you dulled everything with alcohol. Sometimes it hurt less if someone was there with you.

I couldn't help but think of that night in the guestroom at my house. Yugi had wanted someone. Yugi had bared his heart on his sleeve for me. And I had show my true self, the person I secretly hated but put up with because sometimes, I just needed him to get me through the day. This was the person I'd been all along, I realized. I'd just hidden him well.

"What kind of money you got?" Duke said suddenly, digging into his pockets. "I think we need more beer."

"I think," Joey said, pulling out a wad of bills and some change, which he promptly dropped on the ground, "that you are right."

"Atem?" a voice called out from the parking lot.

I turned around to see Téa squinting at me in the sunlight, standing next to a red car with a middle-aged woman climbing from the driver's seat.

"Amanda, there you are," Desirae called out to the lady from Chatham's front door. She spotted me and waved me over. "Atem? Come here, would you?"

"Dude." Duke tugged on my sleeve. "You're going out with _Téa_?"

Apparently.

I didn't want to give Duke the impression it was Téa I was dating; but I couldn't back out now, so I followed Desirae's request and wandered over to the red car, stepping up next to her as she introduced me. "Atem, hon, this is Mrs. Gardener. She's an old friend from college. And this is her daughter, Téa." She winked.

Téa herself blinked, looking between me and Desirae, then giving me a helpless smile that told me she had no idea she was being set up with a friend. I couldn't help but relate. But it wasn't like I going to tell my boss that now.

"Desirae, we can take my car," Mrs. Gardener said, "unless you two don't have a ride, because I can…"

"I have my car," I said, motioning toward my Camry a few rows away. "We'll be fine. Thanks, Mrs. Gardener."

"Okay," she said, and climbed back into her car as Desirae took the front seat. "I'll see you back at home, dear. Have a nice time."

"You too, Mom," Téa called back, and we watched as the two women backed up and drove out onto the street. Téa bit her lip, turning back to me. "Look, I know they set us up, but you don't have to if you don't want – "

"No, let's go," I said, shrugging and pulling out my keys. "Make their day and all."

She nodded. "Okay." She suddenly spied Joey and Duke, who had apparently found another disposable camera in the back of Joey's jeans and were taking photos of themselves trying to climb the building like Spider-Man. Téa send them a wary look. "Are they…?"

"Drunk. They'll be fine. Duke can take care of himself when he's overindulged himself, so I'm sure he'll look out for Joey, too." I found myself tired all of a sudden, as if I just wanted to get through the night as quickly as I could. "Let's go."

* * *

**A/N:** I have never written an AtemxTéa story, and I don't plan to now. Or ever. So please, I don't want to hear "Why are they on a date? What about Yugi?" because things will work out. Give me a few more chapters, guys. ;)

Look out for number thirteen soon-ish. Possibly within the next few days? Eh. Maybe.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue me. I'm a good girl, I am. Washed m' face an' 'ands b'fore I wrote this, I did.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

The thing about being Out There that you always forget is how, at times, it can really suck.

Not that Téa was a horrible person, or anything. She was a friend, a nice person to be around. But just… not my type.

I'd been a little wary when we'd left the strip mall, but was surprised when, actually, we'd immediately fallen into talking about college. Apparently one of her cousins was at Stanford, and she'd been there over Christmas break to visit.

"Great campus," she was saying as the mariachi band, a La Brea staple, started up yet another rendition of "Happy Birthday" across the restaurant. "Plus, the ratio in the classes of professors to students is really good. You're not just dealing with a TA, you know?"

I nodded. "I hear it's pretty rigorous academically."

She smiled. "Oh, come on. I know how smart you have to be to get in there; I doubt you'll have a problem. You probably, like, aced the entrance process. They took one look at your grades and didn't even have to look at the application, you were that good. Right?"

"Wrong," I said, shaking my head.

She raised an eyebrow. "If you say so," she said grandly, taking a sip of her water.

I smiled for her. Aside from Stanford, we'd discussed water skiing (she was terrible, but addicted), the fact that she was ambidextrous (a habit since she was little; somehow, writing with both hands just stuck), and the fact that once summer was over, she'd head over to New York City, where she would study to become a dancer. She wasn't, I pleasantly discovered, goofy or an outright ditz, but neither was she the strict kind of all-business girl I'd made a habit of avoiding during high school.

"So," she said eventually, "let's review. When school let out, you and Yugi really seemed to hit it off when you met at Burger World. You were always talking, always smiling, and you seem to be the only person who can keep up with him in a good, honest game of Duel Monsters. Now, this went on for a few weeks. And believe me, we could all see a difference." She leaned back in her chair. "And then, suddenly, something happens. I don't know what and I'm not sure if I want to, but it happened a few weeks ago, and because of it, Yugi's quieter, you're ignoring the rest of us, and neither of you seem to want to talk about it or care. I was just, y'know, kind of wondering what it all means."

Before I could answer, the waiter sprang at his chance to brush some crumbs off the side of the tablecloth. He had been hanging around our table for a while now, like a vulture, waiting for us to eat the last bread crumb so he could take away the basket. He eyed the last piece sadly, as if it was the barrier between him and eternal happiness; I immediately took it, as a way of stalling and also getting him off our backs, and buttered it up with a knife. The man looked relieved and took the basket away, but immediately returned to stare mournfully at our water glasses.

Téa waited as I finished the roll, but I was running out of options and eventually swallowed it down and had to speak.

"Look, it's not like I plan these things," I began, and she immediately protested.

"No, no, I know: you're a good guy, Atem," she said, and I flinched. "It's just… Yugi and I have been friends for a while, and I'm kind of like his big sister. I just want to make sure he's happy. And with you… he was definitely getting there."

I looked up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, a corner of her mouth coming up into a half-smile. "But everything has seemed to revert back to normal, now. I'm kind of… scared, actually."

I looked at her, concerned. "Scared about what?"

She glanced up at me, biting her lip. "It's – well, I'm not sure if I should say, but… Yugi's…"

I had a few flashes of memories: Yugi stumbling onto my lawn at Irma's party, cuts on his hands and face. Yugi looking up at me in the dim light of the guest room as I spread medicine onto his arm. Yugi's violet eyes ask he asked me, please, not to tell his friends. Though it looked as if at least one of them already knew.

"The beatings," I said. "They're getting worse, aren't they?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes downcast.

I leaned back, running a hand through my hair and sighing. God_dam_mit. I was not a fan of kidney-eating, but I would well and truly do it if Ushio continued ganging up on Yugi with his cronies.

"Joey and Tristan are planning to do something about it," Téa said. "But, I mean, it's hard to catch him, y'know? We don't know where he lives, we don't know who his friends are… he just shows up and… then he's gone."

I didn't say anything.

She looked up at me. "I know you care about him too, but I just… I don't know how much longer I'll be able to take this. There's not much we can do, unless we want to wrap him in cotton wool and insist he never leave the house…"

"What do you think he needs?" I asked quietly.

She looked as if she was about to say something before cutting the words off. "Nngh."

I looked at her. "What?"

"I… think…" She sighed heavily. "Honestly? You."

I blinked. "…_What_?"

"You heard me." She looked down at her plate, at the food that had grown colder over the past five minutes. "He just needs someone, you know? And I don't know what, exactly, you want – a girlfriend, a lover, a one-night stand, whatever – but he was _happy_ with you, Atem. And I was happy for him." She looked up at me now. "I think you're probably the best thing that's ever happened to him."

I paused before stating my next question. "Has he… told you…?"

"About his sexual preference? Yes." She pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Just sat everyone down and said it. It was the day after Irma's party, I think. The morning after."

I winced and looked away.

She noticed this. "Irma's party." She leaned in closer to me, narrowing her eyes. "That was it, wasn't it? You said Yugi called you, said he was sick – what happened?" Her blue eyes grew wide, suddenly, concerned. "Did he run into Ushio again?"

"I think so," I said quietly. "You went out into the backyard, and I saw him walking up the sidewalk, bruised and bloody…"

"Why didn't you tell someone?"

"Because he didn't want anyone to know," I said, rubbing a hand over my face. "He made me promise not to tell, and I made him promise he'd come to me if it happened again… and he did, which was just fan-freaking-_tastic_, but – God, what could I do?"

"Clean him up?"

"He left before I could finish," I growled, glaring at my water glass.

"Why?"

"Because… he…"

I found, suddenly, that I was too tired to care. If Téa knew, then Téa knew. I was tired of running, tired of being a ridiculous coward that was too afraid to even admit he was scared.

And I was scared. I was scared of being – well – _different_, because for as long as I'd lived I knew I wasn't normal. I wanted to fit in for once, and as a male teenager, that meant I slept around. I dated girls. I got good grades. I drove a car. I had a job. That was all typical for someone like me, so I'd followed protocol – but I was tired of it, and maybe that's what I'd realized in the past month.

Yugi never tried to fit in. He knew he was different, knew the world thought he was odd, but he never showed an inch of worry. He went on with his life, head held as high as he could, and looked past all of the bullies and tormentors and sinners because he was the kind of person that held a light with them, using it to walk through life while others like me were left in the dark.

I missed that _light_. I missed that feeling I got whenever he would smile at me. I missed the way he would always know what to say to make me laugh when I felt like hitting something, and how his advice was absolutely horrible but still cheered me up all the same.

I didn't know what this feeling was. I didn't know if I was straight or gay or bisexual or _what_. All I knew was that Yugi had been there for me when nobody else could really relate, or even take the time to care. He'd looked past the Atem everybody had known in high school to draw out the person I wanted to be: the kind of person I'd always hoped to be but figured I could only pretend to. The kind of person that would avenge Yugi when he was was beaten up and lying on the sidewalk; the kind of person that would invite him over to his house to look at pet lizards; the kind of person that would allow an embrace on the sidewalk outside of a nightclub when he was at his weakest.

Yugi seemed to do that naturally, and I hadn't even noticed. And maybe that was why none of the other girls I had dated before him ever worked out. They didn't have that kind of talent, that lantern in the dark. And neither did I.

"Because I was an idiot," I said finally.

Téa looked at me, blinking. "An idiot," she said finally, slowly. "In what way?"

"In a coward kind of way," I said tiredly, shrugging. "In the way where I was too proud to admit something to myself that Yugi had a long time ago."

"Admit what? Wait," she said suddenly, watching me, all-serious. "Atem… do _you_ like Yugi?"

"I'm not… I don't…" I sighed for about the fiftieth time, sagging into my chair. "I guess?"

She considered this for a moment, thinking. "Okay." She began to nod. "That's good enough for me."

I looked up. "What?"

"Your problem," she began, "is not that you are too hard-hearted. It's not that you don't open up. Or, at least, those are not your _biggest _issues. Your problem is that you organize everything out." She waved a hand in the air for emphasis. "You think you can plan the way people will react, on some hidden little chart that you keep tucked away. It's worked for most of your life, but now you meet Yugi, and he just doesn't fit the bill." She looked at me seriously. "The thing is, life isn't like that. Yugi's not like that. I'm not like that. Even you aren't like that, if you took the time to think about it."

"What?" I asked again.

"You are an idiot, Atem," Téa told me chuckling, "but it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. It's just who you are."

I looked at her. "Thanks?"

"Sure thing." She smiled, and after a long moment, I finally smiled back.

* * *

When I got home, Tristan was waiting outside.

"Hey," he greeted as I came up to the lawn. "What's up?"

"Nothing," I said. "What're you doing?"

"Waiting for Irma," he said simply. "She forgot her purse."

This didn't surprise me. "Ah. Of course."

"And y'know," he said thoughtfully, grinning to me or himself I could not tell, "with anyone else, it would just be annoying. But… I don't know. She's just Irma."

I smiled, chuckling. "Yeah. She is." This reminded me of how much I really liked Tristan. No one could understand Irma, I knew; not even me or my mother. Not even Tristan. And he didn't try to, either: he accepted her because she was her, and put up with her flaws because somehow, they just worked.

I made to move on inside the house, but I paused before reaching the steps. "Hey Tristan?"

"Yeah?"

"What made you… decide to love Irma?"

He looked at me, furrowing his brows. "Decide to love?"

"Yeah."

"I… sorry, man, but can you like… rephrase that?"

"What made you," I expanded, "feel like it was a worthwhile risk?"

"It isn't a financial investment, Atem," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking at me curiously. "There's no math to it."

"That's not what I mean."

"What _do_ you mean?" he asked me, confused.

"It's… I… never mind." I went to go inside again, but his voice stopped me.

"Do you mean," he began, "what made me love her?"

I wasn't sure if I could take further discussion of that question. "No. I mean, when you thought about whether or not you wanted to open yourself up, you know, to the chance that you could get really hurt, somehow, if you moved forward with her… what did you think? To yourself?"

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Are you drunk?"

"No."

Tristan sighed. "You want to know how I debated about whether or not to fall in love with her? Is that even close?"

"Forget it," I said quietly, sighing, as I started up the porch steps. "I don't even know what I'm trying to find out anymore. I'll see you later."

I was on the third step when he spoke again. "Atem."

"Yeah?"

"If what you're asking is how I debated whether or not to love her, the answer is I didn't. Not at all. It just happened. I didn't ever question it; by the time I realized what was happening, it was already done."

I stood on the stairs, looking down at him. "I don't get it."

"What part?"

"Any of it."

He looked at me for a long while, as if contemplating whether or not I deserved to know any further details. "Don't worry," he said finally. "Someday, you will."

Before I could respond, Irma came bounding out the door, purse in hand. "Sorry, that took longer than I expected Oh – hey, Atem." She nodded at me before going down the steps to kiss Tristan on the cheek. "I had to check on the lizards."

"Had to or wanted to?" he asked her.

"Both," she replied, shrugging. "Just to make sure they're doing okay."

He chuckled, taking her hand, and Irma waved at me as they got into Tristan's car. The horn honked a goodbye at me as they drove off, and before I could raise a hand in farewell they had already turned the corner and disappeared.

* * *

My mother had been completely immersed in her novel in the past few weeks, pushing through the last hundred pages at breakneck speed, and hardly would have noticed a bomb going off in the living room if it meant pulling her away from Shahenda, Howard Johns, and their impossible love.

Which was why I was surprised to find her sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee beside her, when I walked through the house. She had her head balanced on one hand and was staring up at the wall, so lost in thought that she jumped when I touched her shoulder.

"Oh, Atem," she said, pressing a finger to her temple and smiling. "You scared me."

"Sorry." I pulled out a chair and sat next to her, dropping my keys on the table. "What are you doing?"

"Just thinking, dear," she said, patting my hand. She cast a longing look into her study at her typewriter, as if being pulled there by some invisible tide-like force. "Oh, God, don't you sometimes wish you could live two lives?"

Inexplicably, or maybe not, Yugi suddenly popped in my head, looking up at me with a black eye and bruises. "Sometimes, yeah," I said, shaking this off. "I do."

She smiled at me. "Enough about me. What's happening with you?"

"Well," I said, "Desirae, my manager, set me up with a blind date."

"A blind date?" She looked at me warily.

"It was nice." I shrugged. "I don't think anything'll happen, but it was nice. It was just a dinner."

"Ah," she said, nodding. "Just dinner. As if nothing could happen within three courses and a bottle of wine." Then she sat there, blinking. "That's good," she said suddenly. "I should write that down." And with that, she reached into her pocket, unfolded a sticky note, and scrawled '_Three courses – just dinner – nothing could happen_' before capping it off with a big exclamation point. She stuck the note under the sugar bowl, where it would probably remain, forgotten, until one day when she was totally blocked and found it.

"We went to La Brea," I told her, "so it really was just the one course. Even less a chance of it working out."

She smiled at me. "You never know, Atem. Love is so unpredictable. Sometimes you'll know a man for years and then one day, boom! Suddenly you'll see him in a different way. And other times, it's that first date, that first moment, that's what makes it so great."

I knew she was talking about herself. My mother didn't know about Yugi, or my doubts as to whether I really liked men or not. She was talking about herself, about her own love life; not mine.

I thought so, at least.

"My, but I do miss your father sometimes," she said after a moment, sighing.

I froze. We never talked about our father. It was one of those unspoken rules around the house; we didn't think about what had happened and we didn't want to. It was an obstacle we had gotten over, and we were better people for it. We moved on.

Or so I had assumed.

"He wasn't perfect," I said quietly.

"He wasn't," she agreed. "But he was a good man, and kind to me. And no relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater. Yes, he had habits that tried my patience. And I'm sure I had plenty that do the same for him."

_Habits that annoyed him enough to make him leave?_ I thought, and I hated myself for it.

"But," she went on, "the love we had for each other was bigger than these small differences. And that's the key. It's like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece. Love can make up for a lot, Atem, dear."

"Love is a sham," I said, sliding the saltshaker in circles.

"Oh, honey, no!" She reached over and took my hand again, folding her fingers around mine. Hers were smaller, cooler, the nails bright pink. "How can you say that?"

I just looked at her. One, two, three seconds. And she was with me.

"Oh, now," she said, letting my hand go, "just because my marriage didn't last doesn't make it a total wash. I had many good years with your father, Atem, and the best part was that I got Irma and you out of it. And all of the other relationships I have had; the four years I was with Harold were very wonderful, until the very end. And even with Martin and Dan, I was happy for most of the time."

"But they did end, all of them," I said. "They failed."

"Maybe some people would say so." She folded her hands in her lap and thought for a second. "But I think, personally, that it would be worse to have been alone all that time. Sure, maybe I would have protected my heart from some things, but would that really have been better? To hold myself apart because I was too scared that something might not be forever?"

"Maybe," I said picking at the edge of the table. "Because at the least then you're safe. The fate of your heart is your choice, and no one else gets a vote."

She considered this, really thinking about it, then said, "Well, it's true that I have been hurt in my life. Quite a bit. But it's also true that I have loved, and been loved. And that carries a weight of its own. A greater weight, in my opinion. It's like that pie chart from before. In the end, I'll look back on my life and see that the greatest piece of it _was_ love. The problems, the divorces, the sadness… those will be there too, but just smaller slivers, tiny pieces."

"I thought that you had to protect yourself," I said quietly. "You can't just give yourself away."

"No," she said softly, smiling. "You can't. But holding people away from you, and denying yourself love, doesn't make you strong. If anything, it makes you weaker. Because you're doing it out of fear."

"Fear of what?"

"Of taking that chance," she said simply. "Of letting go and giving into it, and that's what makes us what we are. Risks. That's living, Atem. Being too scared to even try – that's just a waste. I can say I made a lot of mistakes, but I don't regret things. Because at least I didn't spend life outside, wondering what living would be like."

I sat there, not even sure what to say next. I realized I'd felt sorry for my mother for nothing. All these years I'd pitied her marriage, saw the very fact that she kept believing was her greatest weakness, and not understanding that, to her, it was the complete opposite. In her mind, sending Yugi away made me weaker than him, not stronger.

She smiled at me. "Don't let your mother's history make you a cynic, Atem," she said softly, getting up and kissing my forehead. "Okay?"

_Too late_, I thought as she walked past the beaded curtain and back into her own little universe.

Maybe one day I'd learn to see it the way she did. Maybe one day I'd be strong enough to face Yugi again.

Maybe one day I'd learn to get rid of that damned key.

I was thinking just this as I was on the way to my room; when I stopped, suddenly, by the half-open door of the lizard room.

Most of the cages were dark. The lights for the lizards were kept on timers, which clicked them on and off at just the right cycles to make the lizards believe, I supposed, that they were still sunning themselves on desert rocks instead of sitting in a cage in a converted linen closet. But at the far end of the room, on a middle shelf, one light was on.

It was a glass cage, and the floor of it was covered in sand. There were sticks crisscrossing it, and at the top of one stick were two lizards. As I came closer, I saw that they were entwined – not in a mating, nature-takes-its-course kind of way, but almost tenderly, if that was even possible, like they were holding each other. They both had their eyes closed, and I could see the pattern of their ribs, revealed and hidden with each breath they took.

I kneeled down in front of the cage, pressing my index finger against the glass. The lizard on the top opened his eyes and looked at me, unflinching, his pupil widening slightly as he focused on my finger.

I knew this meant nothing. They were just lizards, cold-blooded and probably no smarter than the average earthworm. But there was something so human about them, and for a minute all the things that had happened in the last few weeks blurred past in my mind: Yugi and I breaking apart, my sister's worried face, Joey stumbling onto the sidewalk, all the way up to Tristan shaking his head, unable to put into words what seemed to me, at least, the most simple of concepts. And all of it came down to one thing: love, or lack of it. The chances we take, knowing no better, to fall or stand back and hold ourselves in, protecting our hearts with the tightest of grips.

I looked back at the lizard in front of me, wondering if I had finally gone completely crazy. He returned my gaze, now having decided I was not a threat, and then slowly closed his eyes shut again. I leaned in closer, still watching, but already the light was dimming as the timer kicked in, and before I knew it, everything was dark.

* * *

**A/N:** Man, if you aren't sick of dialogue by now… anyway, stuff is coming up very soon. Not sure when I'll have number fourteen out, but hopefully it'll be posted by next week. Though I'll try my best to get it out for you all sooner.

We're almost done, by the way. I'm planning on two more chapters and an epilogue.

**References:**

"_And even with Martin and Dan, I was happy for most of the time."_  
– Martin and Dan. LittleKuriboh and Mr. Green. Heh. I should really start coming up with my own names instead of stealing others', huh?


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue me. I'm a good girl, I am. Washed m' face an' 'ands b'fore I wrote this, I did.

**A/N: **I hit 100 reviews! Thanks so much, everyone! (: I think this calls for an update…

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

Duke found me at Marquee.

"So Téa told me about you two," he said casually, as if it didn't matter I'd lied to him in the slightest.

I looked over at him over my beer. "She did?"

"Yup."

I slumped back into my seat, figuring I might as well get it over with. "Sorry."

He looked startled. "For what?" At my pointed look, he asked incredulously, "Are you really apologizing for breaking up with her?"

I stared at him. "What exactly did she tell you?"

"That she didn't think things were going to progress between you two." He shrugged. "Sounds like a breakup to me."

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and swallowed another mouthful of beer.

"And so Téa joins the girlfriend club," Duke said now, sitting up straighter on his stool. "God. How many girls have you dated?"

I didn't answer.

"Fifty," he decided, nodding. "No less than." He looked at me.

"I have no idea," I said, frowning. "Why are we talking about this?"

"Because it's topical. And now, as you are about to leave to spread your dating experience to places not only out of this town but out of this _country_, it's only fair that we run through a greatest hits, if you will, of your past just as you embark on your present."

"Are you drunk?" I asked him, though it was fairly obvious all the same.

"First," he said, ignoring me. "Renice Baucom." He sighed sadly. "I loved her, too."

"I was twelve," I argued. "And you didn't even know me back then; how do you know about Renice?"

"Irma filled me in on a few of the more interesting details of your love life. In the thirteenth year," he said, "we had Michelle Loehmann, Theresa Gibbs, Ellie what's-her-bucket…" He paused. "Irma mentioned this one with a jug head. What was her name again?"

"I never dated anyone with a jug head," I said indignantly.

"Then we had six months of Rose," he said, shaking his head. "Not a good time, apparently."

"She was a bitch," I agreed.

"And then we get to fourteen years of age, and the triple whammy of Keladry, Julize, and Christina, as Atem methodically works his way through the front line of the cheerleading squad."

"Now hold on," I said, knowing I was getting defensive, but God, I had to stick up for myself sometime. "You're making me sound like a total asshole."

Silence. Then he burst out laughing.

"Not funny," I grumbled. "I've changed."

"I know you have," Duke said earnestly, chuckling. "I'm just talking about the good old days here."

"Why don't we talk about you, then?" I said. "How about you and the sixty-odd people you've dated?"

"I cheerfully claim every one of them," he said, smiling at me. "Man, Atem. What's up with you? Lost your touch? Not proud of your conquests anymore?"

I just looked at him. "I'm fine."

The count continued as I tried hard not to squirm. There were girls I didn't remember – Annie, who'd worked selling vitamins at the mall – and girls I wish I didn't, like Patricia Scholl, who'd turned out to be not only a total bitch but also involved with a boy from a school two hours away. (_That _had been a fun weekend.) And still, the names kept coming.

"Brianna Tisch," he said, folding down a finger. "She drove that blue Porsche."

"How do you remember these sorts of things?"

"Oh, hey – remember when she cheated on you with Joshua Task and the whole school knew except you?"

"No," I said darkly.

"And then Elizabeth, from the beach north of us. The two-week required summer fling."

I made to interrupt him, but suddenly he took a deep breath, then sighed dramatically with one hand over his chest, "_Isabella_."

I blinked. "The exchange student?"

"From Italy," he confirmed, snapping his fingers. "Atem goes international!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Which leads us," he said finally, "to Mia. And now… Téa."

I didn't have the strength nor the courage to correct him on who, exactly, I had 'broken up' with.

"So. Since you're leaving in a few weeks," he went on, "I must ask you a favor."

"Yeah?"

"If you see any nice prospects, you know my number."

I looked at him. "You want me to go to Stanford to concentrate on finding you a girlfriend?"

"Well, why not?" he asked. "I mean, you'll be busy with school and all. I figure you'll be so preoccupied with all that work you won't have time for a social life of your own; but that doesn't mean you don't have time for mine, does it?"

"It does not," I said.

He went on, ignoring me. "Besides, if you're worried your grades will slip or something while you're passing out my number to hot Californian girls, that's not going to happen. You're smart; you scored a frigging perfect grade on our finals this last year, did you not?"

"I did not."

"I, however," he said grandly, taking a sip of his beer, "scored in the moron category. Which is why I'll still be at the fine local school pulling the gentleman's C, while you head off to lead the free world. You can send me a postcard. Or, better yet, come see me at my postgraduate job, where I'll be happy to Supersize your order because, you know, we're friends and all."

I couldn't fight down a snort.

"Heh. Yeah." He looked down at his cup, almost sadly. "…You know I'm gonna miss you, right?"

I looked over at him.

"However lame and ridiculous that sounds… seriously, man. I am."

Perhaps it was just the alcohol talking. But somehow, I knew deep down that he really meant it. And for some reason, it meant a lot.

It was a moment before I responded. "I'll miss you, too."

He blinked at this, as if unsure if I was kidding or not. "Oh yeah?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you're Atem Yamino. You don't connect with people. All you do is have sex with them and hope their expansive dose of emotions is enough for the both of you."

I snorted again, and he laughed.

"Anyway. It's not like you won't come visit us. You'll be back in the winter, yeah? To check out how us back here in lowly old Domino are doing." He winked and nudged me. "Come on, you know you're going to."

And the thing was, I did. I knew now that there was no way I could cut ties with everybody in Domino. My family was here. My friends were here. Yugi was here.

"Yeah. Winter." I nodded. "I'll be here."

He grinned back at me, but his eyes shifted over my shoulder and his smile fled. "Joey…?"

I frowned and turned around: Joey was at the front door, struggling with the bouncer to get inside. He was arguing with him, looking agitated and impatient, and seemed to be waving his arms a lot.

"Come on," I said, finishing my drink and standing up. "Let's go see what's going on."

Duke followed me through the thick crowd and up to the front door. As we stepped outside into the warm summer night air, Joey's voice grew easier to understand.

"Look, man, I only need to see her for, like, five seconds. Can't you give me that?" he nearly shouted.

"Where's your ID?" the male bouncer requested. He looked annoyed.

"I… left it at home." Joey ran a hand through his hair, pushing the bangs out of his face, and demanded, "Come on, only five seconds. I know she's in there; she's always here from at least eight to ten. Please?"

"No ID, no entrance. Move it, man: you're blocking the line."

"Dude! Seriously, _please_, it'll only take – "

"What are you doing here, Joey?"

Mai stepped outside. She seemed exhausted; her blonde hair was limp and flat, and she certainly didn't look to be in the mood for any arguments or negotiations. I apprehensively awaited Joey's response.

"Mai," he said, relieved. "Hey. Look, I need to talk to you, so, uh, can I come in – ?"

"My shift is done," she said curtly. Tiredly. "Get out of the way, Joey. You're still blocking the line."

He jumped, as if he had not noticed this before now, and the male bouncer sniffed out a condescending "Thank you" before moving off to check IDs and stamp hands.

"Hey, Mai, I – wait, where are you going?" Joey began.

Mai had started walking down the sidewalk, digging in her purse for her keys. "Home."

"But I need to talk to – "

"Not _now_, Joey."

"Okay, so, when?" he demanded, holding his arms out to either side of him. "When is good for you, Mai? Don't mind me, I'll just be sitting around waiting for you until you're ready to stop running and actually talk. That is, until you actually start realizing that I'm a human too, and I might actually get tired of waiting. I do have feelings, you know."

She slowly stopped walking. Her back hunched, head lowered, as if she was staring at the ground. I could see fists clench.

"We can't end things like they did, Mai," Joey said, still ignoring or not having noticed me and Duke listening in on their conversation. "You can't keep running away from things."

"Oh, yes, and you would know, wouldn't you, Joey Wheeler?" Mai snapped, still not turning around. "When have you ever faced your problems?"

"Eh?"

"Who are you to tell me I'm a coward, that I avoid every challenge in my life? Who are you to say I'm not allowed to run and avoid things when you can't even stand up to your own father?"

Joey tensed considerably.

"I don't run because I'm afraid," she went on, quieter. "I leave because it's not worth my time."

"Oh, I see. So I'm not worth your time?"

Mai did not answer.

Joey swore as Duke looked to me with what might have been worry etched in his face. I looked back at him and did a what-can-you-do? kind of shrug while he sighed himself and nodded his agreement.

"You were right, Mai," Joey said finally. "What you said before. I'm not husband material. And I'm not a hero, either. I'm not going to sweep you off your feet and make everything better. This, right here, is… it. I'm nothing special. But… y'know, I don't think that necessarily means I should give up."

"I never said you weren't worth my time," she said softly.

"What?"

"I never said you weren't worth my time," Mai repeated, louder now. "And… you aren't, Joey. You're… better. A lot better, than me. Despite what I said before… you've got more to show than I do. You've got friends and a great personality, and… I was drunk, and I didn't know what to else to say. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, when a guy actually takes the time to talk to me instead of just rushing into sex, and I was scared that I might actually start getting attached to you in a way that I wasn't familiar with."

I suddenly realized what she was getting at, what she was implying. What I had been, all along.

She was scared.

"So I said all those things, just to… to try and remind myself of all of the reasons why I shouldn't give you a chance, and why I shouldn't let you get closer…"

Joey took a step closer to her, hesitantly. "Mai…"

"And I regret it, you know," she said loudly, almost angrily. "Yeah, I regret it. I wish I hadn't said it. Because you _are_ worth it, Joey, and saying those things just made me realize that I couldn't give 'us' a shot because I know that there won't be any way in Hell that I'll ever be enough to deserve _you_."

Joey walked forward and around to face her, not touching but still very close. "Mai, that's totally not what I – "

"I know that's not what you meant," she snapped. "And now you know that that wasn't what _I_ meant, back then, either, so here's your frigging apology."

"What?"

"You wanted me to say it, didn't you? You wanted me to suck it up and admit I regretted saying it all just so you could have the satisfaction of knowing that you got the best of Mai Valentine. Well, congratulations, Joey Wheeler," she said loudly, looking up at him, spitting the words out. "You win. I give up."

"Mai, you of all people should know that I don't mean half of the things that come out of my mouth," Joey argued back. "I'm an idiot. No, you _were _right before. I don't know what I'm doing most of the time and I convinced myself that I might actually have a shot with you.

"And, y'know, it hurt, when you said those things. It did, especially coming from you. But I've been hearing that kind of crap from my father since forever, so I guess I was so used to it that I started to believe it, too. And then I met you, and you…" He sighed again, sticking his hands in his pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them. "Look, I'm not going to lie to you: you're not perfect, Mai. You've got your flaws. They're kind of easy to spot, if you know where to look; and I've got a lifetime of previous experience, so I have to say that I do."

He looked down, scuffing the sidewalk with the toe of his shoe. "But, I mean, that's kind of why I wanted to get to know you. You didn't care about what anyone else thought about you, or if they thought you were screwed up or whatever, and I… liked that. You have the strength that I could never have; the courage I need to stand up to my father, or to confidence I need to even get a frigging job on my own.

"And I… actually, no: I really don't know what I'm saying, anymore." He huffed out a laugh. "I'd planned to come here and confront you and make sure that we at least were relatively okay since I hate it when I can't talk to someone just because of a dumb fight… I guess I wanted to officially say that I'm sorry. For not being who you wanted me to be," he finished, looking down at his shoes.

There was a long silence. Duke and I were watching them from a few meters away; he was leaning against a telephone pole, and I was standing straight, trying to ignore that horrible, nagging guilty feeling crawling in my stomach.

I hadn't run from Yugi. In a sense, however, I had done far worse.

And now that I actually was starting to finally realize, finally understand what I guess I had known all along… I knew that I certainly didn't deserve him. Not after all that had happened.

But I had to find him. I had to apologize, at least. Whether he forgave me or not was out of my control, like so much else, but… I had to try. Just take that leap and talk to him.

I couldn't end things like I had with everyone that had come before him.

"You're really bad at apologizing," Mai said, her voice soft and low.

Joey shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I am." He looked at her again, trying to peek under the curtain of blonde hair that hung around her face. "…You all right?"

She sniffed. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, right."

"I am," she said firmly. "I just… didn't know that was what you actually thought."

"No one seems to think I'm capable of thinking interesting things," Joey said, looking up to the sky, and she huffed out a laugh that didn't seem all that humorous.

"…I don't like it when guys fool around, Joey," she told him. "They horsed around to get in my pants, and then they left me… I got sick of it. So I started leaving them first."

"I'm not going to mess around with you, Mai," he said honestly. "I'm more serious than I've ever been about this."

"You never take anything seriously," she snorted, and his teeth flashed as he smiled.

"Think that if you like. You're also free to believe that I'm – oh, what was it? – a 'lousy wannabe street punk who'll never stand a chance with any girl in his life if he doesn't start acting like the kind of husband a girl actually would want to have.'"

"I hate you," she said quietly, weakly, though it was very obvious a smile was playing across her lips.

"Not true," he replied, smiling bitterly. "Never true."

Duke grinned as they kissed, and I couldn't help but lift the corners of my own mouth.

"Come on," I told him, tugging him away from their private moment. "Let's go."

* * *

I got the text ten minutes later.

'_Do you know where Yugi is?_' Téa sent to my phone, and I frowned.

"Duke," I began, "is everybody doing something tonight?"

"Uhh." He thought about it while I slowed down for a red light. He was still clearly very intoxicated; stumbling around the strip mall this afternoon after five and a half beers and then drowning another two at Marquee did not convince me to allow him his permission to drive his car. "I think we're meeting at… no, can't remember."

"Hm." I quickly sent Téa a message back asking where they were, and received a quick reply a minute later.

'_Arcade_,' it said. '_He was supposed to be here an hour ago_.'

My frown deepened as the light changed to green, and I hooked us onto the street to our left.

"Hey, man, I know for a fact that my house is definitely _that_ way – " Duke protested.

"We're going to Bendo's," I replied. "Something's wrong."

We arrived about fifteen minutes later to find Téa, Tristan, Irma and Bakura hanging out at the entrance. The girls were biting their lips, Tristan looked like he wanted to punch something, and Bakura looked a little pissed.

"Yugi didn't show?" I confirmed as Duke and I came up.

"No," Téa replied, and then her frown deepened. "I don't suppose you know where Joey and Mai are, either, do you?"

"They're – " Duke began; but I felt as if they deserved some privacy, at least for the time being, so I interrupted him.

"They're at Marquee," I answered. "We were just leaving when you sent me the text."

"God, I knew I should've given him a ride," Tristan seethed. "I _knew it_. But no, he said he'd be fine – perfect, he said, I'll be all right – and hell, I just know something happened, I know Ushio got him somewhere, but who knows where he is now…"

Irma looked worried but slipped her hand into his and squeezed nonetheless, sending him a small smile for whatever comfort he would accept.

"Where's Ryou?" I asked them.

"He ran off while ago, said he had a hunch," Bakura snarled, though mostly to himself. "God_dam_mit. I should've fucking gone with him, I know it…"

I furrowed my brow. "How long has he been gone?"

"Guys!"

We turned to see Ryou run up to us from the shadow-filled park on the right. He was panting heavily with some blood on his face, and disregarded the crosswalk to run straight across the street to meet us.

"Guys," he panted, hands on his knees as Bakura immediately came up to him. "Yugi – he – "

"Where is he?" I asked immediately.

"What is _this_?" Bakura demanded, pointing at the large scratch on the side of Ryou's face. He snarled, inspecting it. "Who did this?"

"It's nothing," Ryou said quickly, and before Bakura could argue he told me, "He's back in the park, over on the far side, near the alley. You know where the hill is, and that ditch just underneath it?"

I did indeed, and it was without another word that I ran off, sprinting into the park entrance. I didn't know the Domino Park by heart, but I did know which pathways would take me where. Right, right, middle fork, jump the bench, dodge that tree, get back on the path and head left. If the others followed me, I did not hear them or care.

It took me a few minutes to reach the hill Ryou had spoken of. I could see now, clearly, that at the top of it was Ushio – by himself, this time – pinning Yugi against a large tree. His hand was around his throat, and Yugi's hands grabbed and clutched at his neck, desperate for air. Clenched in Ushio's other fist was the knife I had gotten to know so well the last time we had run into each other.

I threw myself into Ushio's side, tackling him into the ground and causing the both of us to lose our balances and tumble down the small hill and into the ditch below it. Grass and sticks caught at my face and hands, snapping and poking as our skin as we landed in the soft earth.

He was on me, suddenly, both his fists holding the knife that came slashing toward my face – I grabbed his hands, stopping them a good inch away from my nose, and lowered its direction into the ground to the left of my head. My right leg swung up from underneath him, arching up in a kick that knocked into his right shoulder as he struggled to stand. I moved myself now, turning around on the ground so that his angry face looked down at me upside-down, and brought my leg up once more, this time into his nose.

He was thrown back by my kick and I scrambled to grab the knife from before. Wincing in pain from the already-aching muscles, I rose to my feet, coming at him with the knife – though it was soon knocked away after his swift recovery: he brought his own leg up to kick it out of my hands and to my right where it buried itself in the ground once more.

Hands sore from the impact, I dove after it, but soon felt his figure pressing on my back as he tried pinning me to the ground while reaching around to grab my neck. I turned at the last second, ignoring the knife and pressing my heels into the ground for support as I twisted around, jabbing my elbow into his side, where I felt the space left where the ribs didn't connect.

He fell back for a moment and I scrambled for the knife again. I picked it up and turned around as Ushio's large hands came up to mine to try to control the direction of the blade as I had done to him before; he brought it to the side, kicking his knee up into my abdomen. I gasped again, dropping the knife.

I gaped for breath for half a second, but it was enough to knock me off guard and he raised his left hand to strike the side of my mouth. I felt dizzy and nauseous, but managed to somehow pull myself out of the daze to block the next two swings aimed at my face.

My left fist came up and whammed into Ushio's chin: his head was thrown back, eyes now pointed at the sky, but brought his own arm to knock me aside; and unfortunately, no matter how much of a fighter or lack of one I may be, it was then that I was harshly reminded how much strength even one of his arms could hold.

The force knocked me to my side, and my head hit a log on the ground. I scrambled for balance as he went off in search of the knife again, panting heavily and ignoring his bleeding nose from the punch I'd thrown before. I was lying on my back, catching my breath, and grabbed the log behind my skull, gathering up what little strength I still possessed at the moment to swing it into the back of his knees.

He stumbled, and fell hard into the grass while I noticed the strange taste in my mouth. Spitting some of the blood out of my gums and into the grass, I snatched the opening he'd given me, using the log as a club. His hand came up to block it but I slammed my foot into his arm, the sole of my shoe scratching his flesh. I brought it up and down, again and again, smacking it into skin and clothing and facial features so many times I lost count of how many injuries I saw because there was just too much blood to keep track of, anyway.

Looking back on that night, I wouldn't remember much except the blood, and the satisfaction in drawing it. It was everywhere, really: splattered in the grass, in the earth, on our clothes, onto exposed skin. The wood ripped at his skin, scratching and tearing it open and for a while it just felt so satisfying, to get all of this anger and frustration out, that I might have just gone on until there was no more Ushio to hit; but a voice stopped me.

"Atem, please, _no!_"

It was Yugi, of course, who was looking down at me from the hill, eyes widened and understandably shocked with disbelief. I would be too, now that I thought about it. I did not know I could want to attack someone so badly for hurting someone that wasn't me. And for a moment, I realized how scared I was of myself.

I saw Tristan, Duke and Bakura come down to drag Ushio up so that his head was resting against part of the hill. Téa, Irma, Ryou and Yugi followed soon after, heading over to check on me.

"Are you all right?" Irma asked me first, one hand coming up to brush a patch of blood on my right cheek.

"I'm…" I stopped when I realized there was no way any of them would believe me if I said "fine." I wasn't, to be honest: I was sore and hurt and incredibly tired, but still standing, at the very least. "Just give me a minute to catch my breath," I finally said.

Irma nodded as Bakura stated, "Fucking hell – you nearly knocked him out, Yamino…"

I looked over at Ushio, who was sprawled in the grass and looking quite still; but I could see his chest rising up and down very faintly, and eyelids flickering slightly.

I walked over to him, ignoring my sore and protesting muscles as I crouched down and peered into his face. "Nod if you can hear me."

It took a few seconds, but I eventually noticed his head moving, very slowly, up and down.

"Good." I took a breath to calm myself down. "Apparently, I didn't make myself clear enough last time." I caught his gaze as his eyes flickered to mine, and I held it steady. "You will not touch Yugi or any of my friends again. _Ever._ You leave them alone, and I will leave you alone. Deal?"

His chin slowly, but very surely, nodded once more.

There was a moment or two before I began speaking again. "…You were mugged. They attacked you, took what you had, and dropped you off in this ditch. That's right, isn't it?"

It occurred to me as he nodded for the third time that it might seem a bit odd to whoever Ushio told if he said that he was mugged; especially with the size and strength that he had. Even if he was ganged up upon, he always carried his knife, and I knew that he knew how to use it.

_But then, it isn't like he's going to tell anybody what really happened_, I reassured myself. _He got beat up by a guy two-thirds his size for choking a someone barely five feet tall. He won't want to start spreading that around._

"One more question." This came from Bakura, on my right. He leaned down, white locks falling around his face as he inquired, "Did you give Ryou that scratch on his face?"

"R… Ryou…" The words came out soft and grated as Ushio struggled to focus on his face. "Heh. That… that British pretty-boy freak?"

Bakura punched him.

"Bakura!" Ryou cried out, eyes wide. "You shouldn't have – "

"Whatever," Bakura waved it off, examining his fist. "It sure as hell felt good, though."

I ignored the rest of the following squabbling and stood again, turning around and moving back to Yugi.

He stared up at me, looking neither scared nor horrified; only complacent. As if I were a puzzle he was still trying to solve, but just couldn't find the right middle piece yet.

I looked at him for a long moment, not what to do. There was so much I wanted to tell him – so much I _had_ to tell him – that I wasn't quite sure which was the most important, the most influential, to say first.

I couldn't do it.

I looked away, into the grass. "I'll see you later, Yugi."

And as I walked away, out of the park and back home to clean myself up, I ignored the fact that I'd just ruined the perfect chance for confessing to Yugi and baring my heart as he had done to me. I disregarded the feeling of knowing I might not ever get a chance like that again.

_Not there_, I told myself. _Not in front of everyone. It didn't feel right. It wouldn't _be_ right._

I knew, deep down, that I would get another opportunity. I knew that I would get another chance to spill everything and be the one to reach out to him like he had to me. I knew that if it did not come with time, then I would make it; because things were still so funny and strange between us that I knew neither of us could ever possibly want to be like this when I left for Stanford before the month was up.

I would talk to Yugi soon, I promised. Very soon.

But I had to take care of something, first.

I could feel the wet blood that trickled down my shirt, starting from where the key had cut into the skin of my chest some time within the brawl that had just taken place.

I ignored it, and I continued walking home.

* * *

**A/N:** Can you imagine me giggling at my computer while typing up the fight scene? 'Cause that's pretty much what I was doing. D: I think I had a little _too_ much fun writing it…


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** Don't sue me. I'm a good girl, I am. Washed m' face n' 'ands b'fore I wrote this, I did.

**A/N:** Try not to get too confused with the way the point of view shifts in this chapter. It bounces from third to third to first, and only the latter has Atem. Hopefully it isn't as puzzling (Puzzling! Haha! Get it? –shot–) as I suspect it is.

Would now be a good time to mention that this is the last chapter?

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

"You're _kidding_ me."

"Nope." Duke took another bite out of his hamburger. "It was awesome."

"Dude, _you_ were _drunk_," Tristan said. "Let someone who was actually awake enough to pay attention tell the story."

"I can't believe I missed it," Joey moaned, sinking into his seat. "Oh, man. How good was it?"

"Epic," Tristan replied.

"_Dammit_." Joey rested his cheek into his fist, his elbow lying on the counter. "I shoulda been there…"

"I'm sure if you really want him to, Atem could always find Ushio again to give him another good ass-kicking, Joey."

"Nah, man, I meant I wanted to help!" Joey said, throwing an arm up in the air. "I should've thrown that punk at least one good hit. Even _Bakura_ got a punch in, didn't you say?"

"That was afterwards," Ryou put in, leaning against his seat in the booth. "Ushio kind of insulted me, so…"

"He got what he deserved," Bakura sniffed, wrapping an arm roughly around Ryou as Ryou himself blinked in surprise. "Atem just knocked him down a few times. It wasn't as '_epic_' as it's being described as."

Irma smiled as squabbling broke out. She'd technically only come because Tristan was here, but she didn't mind hanging out with his friends – _her_ friends – all that much.

It was almost bizarre, that term. 'Friends.' Her, Atem, and their mother. That's all it had ever been for a while; or at least until their father had left. They'd all thought it would take them ages to get over the hole he'd left behind when he'd walked out the door. And yet here they were, ten years later, still managing – still holding on, and staying strong despite everything and everyone that had told them they wouldn't make it.

Irma frowned into her soda. Where was that moron, anyway? Atem was never late; a fact he consistently reminded her of. She'd texted him, told him to be here fifteen minutes ago. He had to be at least on his way.

Right?

"Hey, Irma," Tristan said. "Do you know where your brother is?"

Irma looked around the table to find everyone staring at her expectantly; she shrugged. "No. I told him to be here, and usually once is enough with that guy, but apparently not this time."

She could see Yugi watching her cautiously from his corner of the booth. "Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"No, I – "

Wait. Wait, yes, of course she did. Of course she knew where he'd be. And she'd been an absolute idiot to not have figured it out sooner.

There was something that had changed about Atem over the summer: it was as obvious as broad daylight. What exactly had changed had never really made sense, or been completely understood to her until then: Yugi had definitely had a part with it – that, she knew. It'd been Yugi that he'd sheltered inside their home, Yugi who'd he'd been spending more time with lately, Yugi's name who he'd been so startled at when she'd asked if that was who he was sleeping with –

She'd known it before, but sometimes, it just helped to say, or at least think, it again.

_You're an idiot, Atem._

Last night. Last night had been so unsettling, first with finding out Atem was dating Téa and they had broken up all within an hour; and then the nervous, worried tension of waiting outside Bendo's and wishing, hoping, for Yugi to show up so they could all go inside and pretend Ushio was not a problem at all.

Then there was that brawl she'd been a witness to, watching two teenagers trying so desperately to hit and fight and hurt; all because of one small boy.

And the look her brother had given Yugi afterwards before walking away, back home, to where nothing awaited him except a house filled with their mother's classical music and the bitter knowledge that you'd just missed the perfect moment.

There was only one place he could go now.

"…Yeah." She furrowed her brow in Yugi's direction, not glaring at him but merely trying to concentrate as thoughts floated together in her head, puzzle pieces snapping together, finally. "I think I do."

Irma stood up, finishing her soda and nudging Tristan to move so that she could squeeze out of the booth. "Come on. I can only fit three others in my mom's car."

"Only three?" Duke questioned.

"Yugi's sitting shotgun," she replied, and was interested to notice that Yugi himself did not seem surprised.

It made sense, really. She'd seen the key on occasion, peeping up over his shirt, or outlined underneath it. And for a long while, she'd never quite understood what it was for, what it went to; he wouldn't talk about it, and around when she'd turned fifteen, she'd stopped caring.

It seemed that Atem never had. It seemed his father's disappearance had affected him a lot more than it ever had her; even as a girl, she'd been more attached to their mother. She'd been so attracted to her attitude, her cheer, that Irma hadn't paid much attention to her father until he was gone.

Was he really gone, though, if Atem never got over it?

Irma knew that there was only one way he could; it was possible, sure, even so far down the line. It was always possible to move on. Because even though it might be harder to let it go instead of tucking that secret deep down inside, sometimes, it just didn't matter, because you were wasting your life basing your actions on one event that shouldn't have happened, anyway.

Because there was still that one place Atem could ever go to settle things finally, indefinitely.

Even though it was on the way to nowhere. Or back.

* * *

"Man," Tristan said as Irma bumped up the road near the yellow house, avoiding holes and sizable stacks of water-logged newspapers. Up ahead, Atem's Camry was parked in the driveway. "Who lives here, again?"

"Just this girl we know," Irma said nonchalantly. "A family friend."

Yugi glanced over at her, catching the lie, and she met his gaze briefly before motioning to the front door of the house with her head.

"Is he really in there?" Duke asked, wrinkling his nose. "Maybe that's someone else's car…"

Yugi spotted, in the corner of his eye, a very small flash of movement. It was very quick, so quick he wondered if he'd seen anything at all – just a shift of the fabric an inch to the left, then back again. The exact way it would have to for someone to peer out and yet still not be seen.

"No, it's him," Yugi said, opening the door to the car and stepping out. "It'll be fine. Let me just… talk to him. It'll be fine."

Téa and Duke nodded, though both looked too worried to pass off as curiosity. Tristan glanced to Irma, who ignored his gaze, instead focusing on Yugi.

"Good luck," she told him, and he nodded his thanks as he walked up to the yellow house.

There was a key in the lock. Yugi eyed it slowly, turning the doorknob inward, observing how it opened so quietly, so silently; as if he wasn't really there. He took the key out, clenching it tightly within his fist.

As far as he was concerned, this entire endeavor would be quick and painless. Go up, talk, and leave, hopefully with as little explanation as necessary. Then Irma would take them all back home, and this would all be over.

Atem would be leaving in a few weeks. Yugi would be staying in Domino. It was what was best for everyone. Maybe one day they'd see each other again. Maybe they wouldn't.

Simple as that.

* * *

I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting to find here. It had been years, after all. Maybe a new family had moved in. Maybe the landowners had stripped everything out, readying the building to demolish. Or the house empty, cleaned out as if we'd never been here at all. The possibility, though, had never crossed my mind.

When I'd put the key in that lock, the knob, it felt so familiar and still so strange, like an old friend you hadn't seen since you were small children. You realized that they'd grown up, that they're different people now; but they're still the same, and you can still see similar qualities in them, the same facial features. A lot older. A lot more worn.

The lock had turned with a soft click, and I was in.

And here I was, an hour and a half later, still not ready to say goodbye quite yet. It was ridiculous.

In the living room, there was a row of beer bottles on the coffee table, and a blanket balled into the corner. I might have recognized it, if I'd taken the time to look. A breeze ruffled the curtain hanging over the window on my left.

I kept moving, pushing open my old bedroom door and flicking on the single bulb overhead. It looked exactly how I'd left it, all that time ago – except the closet door was open. My mother must have came in after I had to pack up the last of my clothing to take with us to our next house.

It was so strange. I hadn't been here in ages, and still, I could remember this place so clearly, as if it had left such an impact on my life that it would be absolutely impossible to forget when I reached even fifty years of age.

I wanted to get out of there. So very badly. But even so, I stayed where I was, as if by doing so the room would, in the next moment, be anything but empty.

"Atem?"

Yugi's voice was low, tentative. I swallowed, thinking how stupid I was, thinking that something might have actually still been here to change me into the person that could move onto Stanford with his head held high. I didn't speak, for fear of my voice shaking. I didn't have that courage.

"Are you…?" He paused. "Are you okay?"

I nodded.

I heard him shift his weight behind me, taking a step, although toward me or away I wasn't sure; and not knowing this was enough to make me turn around. He was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, the front door open behind him, turning his head slowly, taking it all in. I felt a surge of shame; I'd been so stupid to come here. Like I, of all people, didn't know better than to indirectly lead a total stranger right to the point where they could hurt me the most, knowing how easily they'd be able to find their way back to it.

"This place," he said, looking at the bottles on the table, a lone cobweb stretching across the room between us, "…Atem, are you – ?"

"I'll be fine, Yugi. What do you want?" I tried to say it as politely as possible, though even to my own ears it sounded a bit harsh.

He blinked, looking at me warily. "Just… to say thanks."

I looked over at him. "What?"

"You sent Ushio to the hospital. Broke his wrist, or something. Or that's what Téa told me." He shrugged. "Anyway, I don't think… he'll be a problem anymore. And you made it that way."

It took a while, but I eventually nodded, all formal. "You're welcome."

He swallowed. "So, um… that's it. That's all I wanted."

I didn't respond.

"I guess… I'll see you around, then."

He started walking back toward the front door. His steps seemed forced, almost hesitant; and it wasn't long before he paused halfway down the hall and turned around once again.

"Look." Yugi seemed determined now, like he had to get something out. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "I liked you, Atem. Well, I _still_ do. And maybe we couldn't be friends. But man, you didn't waste any time, did you?"

"I never wanted it to be ugly," I told him. "And I did want us to be friends." _Or more than._ "But it just never works. Never."

He considered this. "Okay. I think you're right. Maybe we're both a bit at fault here. I wasn't exactly honest when I said I could deal with us being friends."

"Me, neither."

"I guess I was just – what?"

"Me, neither," I said again.

He looked at me for a moment. "Okay," he said slowly, "and what is that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"That I wasn't being entirely truthful that this whole 'friends' thing was… working out, for me."

"…Oh." He blinked. "So you want to… stop, then? Cut everything off? 'Cause, I know, you're leaving, off to Stanford, new life, no old ties, I totally get that – "

"That's not what I meant." I closed my eyes, like I was trying to get rid of a painful headache, and shook my head. "No, it's just… I guess… I…"

He waited patiently for me to continue. This was it, I told myself. This was that one symbolic moment where everything would either go perfectly right or horribly wrong. Either we left this house driving away into the sunset together, or we each left in separate cars, strangers again, just like we had been when this had all started.

I opened my eyes and concentrated on an old stain on the floor. It looked like beer. "…I really… Yugi…"

Yugi smiled bitterly, taking a simple step forward. "I know. It's okay."

"Yugi, it's been a while," I told him, almost hating how the words were coming out so easily, as if I had wanted to expose myself all along. It was for Yugi, though. He was worth it. "It's been a long while. This was where… he left."

"Your father."

I didn't question how he knew that. "Yes."

"And him leaving," Yugi clarified, "is what made you start believing…"

"That things couldn't work out," I finished. "That 'I love you' was such a breakable promise…" I swallowed, telling myself it was all right to say these words, because I'd been hiding them for so long it would be such a relief to finally let them free for all they were worth. "I was scared of taking that risk anyway."

Yugi thought this over for a moment. "Okay. I can understand that." After a second or two he stepped forward, closer to me, and held out his hand. "Here. I think this is yours."

There's just something obvious about emptiness, even when you try to convince yourself otherwise. The key that Yugi now handed over me had fit not just the yellow house but another door, once, perhaps somewhere within my own heart. One that had been locked so tight for so long that I was afraid to even try it for fear of what might be on the other side.

"Thank you," I said quietly, though not soft enough for him not to hear. I took another breath before continuing. "…I want us to work out, Yugi."

He looked at me curiously. "'Work out,' as in… friends? More than friends?" He blinked. "Perhaps gym partners?"

I smiled for him. "I must say I prefer the second option."

Yugi looked at me for a long moment, eyes holding mine steadily, before replying, "Me, too, Atem."

It was spontaneous and completely unplanned. But I told myself in my mind that it would be fine, it would make sense – and it did, really. It felt natural, almost. The way he tilted his head just so, his nose brushing against mine as my lips came down to reach his – it all made sense. Like it was okay, to be doing this. Like perhaps I had been wrong, after all.

Like maybe, for the first time, things just might actually work out.

"It feels right," he said simply after we'd broken apart. "Do you feel it? It just feels… okay."

Did I feel it? Everything seemed so tangled, so all at once. But then in my mind, I saw something. The Pacific Ocean, spread out so wide, with Yugi and me separated not only by our difference of opinions, but also by miles and miles of space. It was too far to cross with just a look or touch.

My parents may have denied me some of my childhood, or the childhood I'd thought I deserved; and perhaps Yugi had kept a little too much of his own, as if he'd enjoyed his so much he wasn't willing to part with it quite yet. It wasn't too late, I realized. An even trade, years for years. Those passed for those to come.

For now, I scooted closer, until we were touching. Chest to chest, arm to arm, forehead to forehead. I leaned into him for once, instead of away, appreciating the pull I felt there, something almost magnetic that held us to each other. I knew it would always be there, no matter how much of the world I put between us. That strong sense of what we shared, good and bad, that led us here, to where we could begin again.

"Yes," I said finally. "It does."

Maybe this was a big mistake, one among many. But sometimes, we all needed to let ourselves love, even a little bit, whether we wanted to admit it or not.

I looked down at him, taking in the line of his chin, his eyes and lashes, the way his fingers were already coming up to brush a bit of my hair out of my face, entwining themselves in the strands there. So nearby now, after the distance before. But he was here.

And that was it, really: that idea of distance and accomplishment. The further you go, the more you have to be proud of. At the same time, in order to come a long way, you have to be behind to begin with. In the end, though, maybe it's not how you reach a place that matters. Just that you get there at all.

It was this closeness that I tried to concentrate on – not that it might be fleeting, a feeling I knew all too well – as I leaned down and put my lips to his again, as outside the world went on without us, incessant and continuous and completely unaware.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm astounded by the numbers of reviews, subscribers, and favoriters to this story. (And a community! I'm even on one of _those _things! xD) Seriously, I'm just blown away. When I started writing in the Yu-Gi-Oh fandom, I thought I'd end up one being of those nobodies in the corner, occasionally posting fics that one or two fellow nobodies might read on occasion, but who would mostly stick to the big, popular stuff.

I am so happy and flattered to discover that I was wrong.

This is the end of 'Locks and Keys.' There will be an epilogue, but this is, technically, the finale. I hope everybody is at least relatively okay with it ending the way it did, because for me personally, it works. I do hope you all have enjoyed the ride as much as I have.

Until we meet again, then: rock on, God bless, and keep it real.

Cheers!  
- iSparrow


	16. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** Doesn't really matter anymore, now that it's all over.

**A/N:** I might as well warn you now: my epilogues tend to be short. Sorry about that. (And bonus cookies if you recognize a certain spot from the original YGO manga, when Joey/Jou steals Yugi's puzzle piece.)

Please enjoy, and I hope to see you all next time!

- iSparrow

* * *

**Epilogue**

My flight got in around one in the afternoon. I was incredibly jet-lagged, but somehow managed to stumble into the right place inside the airport, because Joey, Mai, and Duke greeted me with a smile at the baggage claim.

"Long time no see," Mai said, smiling wryly. "How's Stanford, Mr. Hotshot?"

"It's great," I replied, though I cut myself off with a yawn. "I'm sorry, but can we talk about this after I've had a few more hours of sleep?"

"Sure thing," Duke said, and offered his hand to carry my other bag. I thanked him, handing it over gratefully, before following them out the doors into the chilly air of winter.

"Téa's arriving tomorrow night," Joey informed me. "Oh – and she called on Tuesday, and informed your sister that she's really enjoying the bound galley of the new book. A lot of fans of your mom that live on her hall in the dormitory have already asked her to borrow it."

I smiled. Ingrid Yamino's latest novel, _'The Choice,'_ had been a little surprising for me: while I wasn't much into the gasping romantic type of story that my mother wrote, Irma had still sent me off to Stanford with a copy to read on the plane to California. I had been surprised by the ending, just as my mother's editor and publisher had been, because you tend to expect the heroine to end up with a man, some man, at the end. But Shahenda, instead, made the choice of no choice, packing up her Paris memories and heading across the world to start anew with no lingering loves to hold her back. It wasn't all that bad for an ending, I thought. It was, after all, the one I'd planned for myself, not too long ago.

"Ryou and Bakura are spending some time at Ryou's house," Joey went on. "His family wants to get to know Bakura, or something, which I find absolutely hilarious; and Tristan and Irma are seeing a movie, at the moment. I think they'll be done by four."

I didn't hesitate before asking my next question. "What about Yugi?"

"Waiting for you," he replied simply, and before I could ask what he meant, I heard a shout from the parking lot. I turned to see Yugi grinning at me in a light brown jacket from where he stood next to Duke's blue convertible.

"I was keeping the car safe," he explained to me as I reached him, receiving a quick and very warm hug.

"I'm sure you've noticed this, but Duke's more than a little overprotective about his car," Mai said bluntly as she climbed into the front seat.

"Hey, if you had a car this good, you'd take care of it too, Valentine," Duke sniffed, opening the door to the driver's side.

"So how are you?" Yugi asked me as those two argued lightly in the front seats. He, Joey, and I climbed into the back. "I mean, how's college and all?"

"Tiring," I replied simply as Duke pulled us out of the parking lot. "But satisfying." I looked down at him. "How are you?"

"A new set of Duel Monsters packs arrived yesterday," Yugi said, ticking off his fingers as he settled against my side, "Grandpa's discovered bingo, Tristan got a new motorbike, and Joey beat Duke."

"You didn't answer my question." I paused, then blinked. "Did you say that Joey finally beat Duke?"

"It was just once," Duke proclaimed loudly from the front seat. "_One time_."

"Yeah, but it still counted!" Joey said cheerfully. "And soon, I'll be doing it on a regular basis, too – you'd better watch out, Devlin. Joey Wheeler isn't gonna quit until he can beat you in Duel Monsters with his eyes closed."

The conversation that took place on the drive back into the suburbs of Domino was mostly squabbling on Joey and Duke's parts as Mai rolled her eyes and gazed at the scenery out the window with a bored expression. Yugi and I didn't speak, with my arm around him and him leaning into me; I didn't feel the need to, and apparently, neither did he.

It was a little while before we passed by our old high school. I could see where my old government class was, and recognize the best make-out place on campus: that little corner behind the spot where the gym and bleachers connected. On the other side of the building I knew, just out of sight, was the water canal that ran parallel to the side of the school.

"Hold on," I said. "Can we stop here? I need to do something."

Duke glanced back at me in the rear-view mirror but nodded anyway, swerving over to the side of the road and parking the car, leaving the engine running. "It's cold outside, man. You going to be a while, or…?"

"It'll just take a second," I said, climbing out of the car and wrapping my jacket firmer around myself. "If I'm longer than five minutes, feel free to leave without me."

He grinned. "I'll hold you to that."

Yugi looked at me curiously, but I smiled back at him. "It's fine. I'll be back in a moment."

I headed over to the canal, breath forming clouds in the air, as I stepped around the building until I couldn't see the car anymore. And it was only then, when I knew I was alone at least for the moment, that I reached into my pocket. As I pulled out my key from the yellow house, which I'd kept on my bureau at Stanford since the day I'd arrived there, I traced the shape one last time before folding my hand tightly around it.

Behind me, Duke and Joey were calling. My friends were waiting for me. Looking down into that canal, all I could think was that it is an incredible thing, how your whole world can revolve around something so small for such a long time. I stepped closer to the edge, keeping my eyes on my reflection as I dropped the key into the water, where it landed with a splash. At first, it hit the surface and paused, but soon fell down, down, until it was gone.

I turned around, away from the chilly water and the tiny key lying somewhere at the bottom of it, and walked back to the car, climbing into the warm seat next to Yugi once again.

I knew that there were no guarantees. No way of knowing what came next for me, or him, or anybody. Some things don't last forever, but some things do. Like a good song, or a good book, or a good memory you can take out and unfold in your darkest times. In the next few years, Yugi and I would frequently be an entire ocean away from each other. But I had a good feeling I'd get to him, one way or another. And if not, he'd already proven he could meet me halfway.

But for now, I just sat there in the car and listened to Duke's radio, feeling Yugi's warm body next to mine. Maybe things would work out perfectly, and once I graduated I would move back here to be with Yugi and give us both what we've ever dreamed. Or maybe, nothing would happen at all. Right now, though, I wanted not to think forward or backward, but only to lose myself in his presence. So I lay back, tucking my head inside his shoulder and closing my eyes, and let him fill my mind, new and familiar all at once, rising and falling with my very breath, steady, as I slowly fell asleep.

* * *

_Fin._

_

* * *

_


End file.
